


green tears.

by here_comes_the_son



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat Puns, Character Death, Doctor Donatello (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT) Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt Leonardo (TMNT), Hurt Raphael (TMNT), Leonardo (TMNT) is a Dork, Multi, Mutant Politics, Mutants, Oneshot, Possible Character Death, Post-Apocalypse, Predecessor to Paint, Protective Donatello (TMNT), Protective Leonardo (TMNT), Protective Michelangelo (TMNT), Protective Raphael, Raphael (TMNT) Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, Sad Ending, Scientist Donatello (TMNT), This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, books are based off of these one-shots, cat alien?, cat... monster, donnie has a breakdown part 12, multi-shots, purple dragons - Freeform, reader is an actual character, theres a unique reader for every oneshot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_comes_the_son/pseuds/here_comes_the_son
Summary: A oneshot book containing stories of murderous graffiti and stick figures that have come to life, purple dragons who love pop culture, and a egotistical cat alien who believes herself to be a Goddess... and these are only the first three chapters.Need I say more?
Relationships: Donatello & Leonardo & Michelangelo & Raphael (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT) & Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello/Raphael (TMNT), Leonardo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Raphael (TMNT)/Reader, The Shredder & Original Character(s), The Shredder & Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27





	1. graffiti -落書き- donatello x reader

**Author's Note:**

> this was a one-shot that I wrote about three years ago that I’ve revised to be posted on Ao3, I hope you enjoy! If you enjoy reading this one-shot, I’m sure you would be delighted to know that I recently adapted this mini fic into a book with twelve chapters already posted! The plot is different, but the premise of murderous pieces of art is still there! It’s a Leonardo x Reader that goes by the name of ‘Paint’ on my profile. Check it out if you would like!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You poured the liquid over the stick figures, your expression grim and set in stone as the mutated paintings began to scream.

When you were but a mere child, your mother used to read to you the age old myth of the Shēnghuó huà, or, the Living Paintings. The story began about a little girl who had been told by her mother to put away her parchment and her quill, for it was time for daily prayers towards their deities. The little girl disobeyed her mother, for she wanted to continue her fantastical drawings of monsters, beings from other vast civilizations, and not spend quality time offering up supplication to the gods and goddesses that had placed her on this very earth. 

The Gods up in heaven were considerably angry by the disobedient attitude of one girl, seeing that if one rebelled, others would soon follow. Knowing this, the Gods contracted a demon to place a curse on the drawings that she had drawn on her parchment. The paintings came to life that night and murdered her entire family- including the little girl's mother. It left the girl alive, to live out the consequences and grief because of her disobedience- never to draw again.

You had always hated the story that your mother had told you. You had felt bad for that little girl, and for a year after you had heard that story- you had not even dared to touch a crayon or marker. Even as a child, you had never been that great of an artist, but the thought of your drawings coming to life and murdering your mom was enough for you to stop. You weren't sure of the real reason that your mother had told you such a traumatizing story. A probable reason being to force children to obey their mothers, to never abandon their studies in favor of drawing, and to never pursue an artistic lifestyle. Luckily for your poor mother, you had never cared much for art. Instead, you had pursued a lifestyle of becoming a chemist, much to the horror of your traditional relatives. It may have had something to do with the support of your boyfriend, a man of science who had supported you in your endeavors. From taking blood samples from a mutated mouse that had tried to bite his neck, to poor Leather-Head, who had promptly panicked at the prick of the needle and thrown Donnie across the room. You would never confess to him how difficult it had been to hold back your tears of laughter when it had occurred. 

So when Donatello had raced off with his family and friends to stop the spread of Graffiti Monsters, as Mikey had dubbed them, you had almost had a panic attack. The four white bucket of paint that Raphael and Leonardo had dragged home had looked menacing enough already. Each bucket had a combination of colors, swirled around, with specks of blue green mutagen littering the top, winking at you menacingly. 

Mikey, of course, had been the one to trip over a vial of mutagen, effectively breaking it as it dumped its mutagen over the ledge, splattering into those four buckets. Thankfully, most of the mutagen had spilled onto the floor, but Donnie had been worried of the ramifications behind this dangerous mixture. Would the paint itself come to life and eat everyone? As if it was some sort of cliche knock off of the Blob? Or would it just lay peacefully inside of its bucket, glowing each night like a blue-green alien nightlight? 

Donatello had found out the hard way of what exactly the paintings could do when you had, to Donnie's embarrassment, pointed out why he hadn't just used the paint for what it was originally proposed for- painting. He had taken your advice, rolled out his marker board, and tacked up some canvas over it. Together you both had started to paint, almost as if you two were on a cute date together, and you had genuinely enjoyed yourself. Donatello was a great artist, much to your muted surprise. Sure, you had seen him sketch out inventions and the anatomies of mutants and humans- but this, this was different. When you had pointed this fact out, he had blushed, and only muttered that he rarely did draw anymore, as he had always been embarrassed about his skills, or lack thereof. You noted that compared to you, you stick figure drawings were preschool level; Donnie was in a league of his own. 

Now- you could imagine the surprise that had befallen the both of you that during this adorable moment, where the two of you had grown closer as a couple- the portrait made of yourself that Donnie had sketched out- had come to life and tackled him to the ground. Neither of you had known what to do as this doppelgänger had choked the life out of Donnie, with the real you becoming suspicious that this was some kind of prank that Mikey had put together. It wouldn't be the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. You were a bit gullible to the pranks that Mikey put together, but it wasn't entirely your fault. Mikey's pranks were just so well planned, and so realistic at times. 

You had froze when this sketch of yourself, with your identical hair down to it's very strands, your barely tolerable eyes, had tackled your darling lover with such force, such anger, that it shook the real you to your very core. It had been so strong, Donnie would later tell you, that he had blacked out for a few moments. Which was why you kicked yourself when you thought back to that memory. Of Donatello on the ground squirming, trying to push off this doppelgänger that he himself had created, as it squeezed the breath out of him. 

The fear in his eyes as he tried to push off this incredibly strong sketch, the same beautiful pair of vibrant eyes that he had fallen in love with burning with rage. He couldn't bring himself to hurt this living painting because something in his brain screamed that it actually was you. That you were angry at him, that he had done something to deserve this abuse, though the real Y/n had stood before him, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar, frozen in place. 

You were later told that Raphael had been the one to save Donnie, alerted by screaming that came from neither of them. The inhumane shrieks had come from the doppelgänger, when Donnie, in his desperation, had dug his fingers into the eyes of the painting, puncturing two holes in the paper like, brittle, version of you.

Raphael had wrestled the doppelgänger Y/n to the ground, and though the mutated painting was strong, no one could defeat the strength that came from Raph's rage when he had seen his brother in danger. You yourself never moved from your frozen state, only snapping to attention when Donnie had suddenly sat up, gasping for air. He hadn't been able to talk for the next few days, and when he finally did manage to, his voice was a raspy mess. His vocal chords had been damaged by the choking, and it had taken two more weeks for Donnie's voice to go back to normal. 

Unfortunately, you had a bad habit of becoming frozen in the face of danger, whenever you had to make a rapt decision that could mean your very own life. Your anxiety seemed to consume you, forcing you to become like a statue, in body and in mind. Which was another one of the reasons why Donnie had proposed the little cork covered vials that you would carry in your pockets, your purse, even down your bra in case of emergencies. To simply throw one down and get the chance of escape, or to throw one in the eyes of an enemy instead of answering their questions had been a massive relief to you. You had always worried that if you were ever approached by a henchman of the Shredder or even stopped by one of the many gangs that had a grudge to hold against Donatello, you would mess up, be kidnapped, be tortured; the thought alone being too much to handle. 

You had wondered why you had not simply fished one of the vials out of your pocket and smashed it in the face of your very own doppelgänger. A few nights later, you understood why. The sketch that Donatello had made of you had been so _realistic_. Your intelligent, kind, mind, like Donnie's, had twisted the sight of doppelgänger Y/n to believe that that thing was, in fact, you. That you were the one strangling Donatello, that you yourself was the one who had almost murdered him. Your mind had gone completely blank in that moment.

You had failed Donnie.

Donatello, on the other hand, never once brought that moment up. He did not blame you; he only blamed himself. He should have been more careful, to think something as innocent as painting pictures in his lab would have ended as playfully as it had started, had been illogical, stupid even. It had been his own fault that you had had your own silent panic attack. He shouldn't have depended on you to save the day; you weren't that type of person. You were just like him, neither of you were fighters; you two did not strengthen your bodies, but your minds.

The painted doppelgänger had been thrown into an old chest that Donnie had found in one of his landfill trips. Under lock and key, Y/n Jr., again, Mikey's self proclaimed name, had been kept under. She had never ceased her screaming. It had driven all of them insane, with Leonardo and Donnie taking the chest deep into the sewer tunnels to abandon the screaming chest. That had only made it worse, with the screaming echoing along the walls, terrifying construction workers, attaining the attention of news stations, tabloids, and innocent citizens. Such a sound only gave you and the others nightmares. The scream didn't sound human, it sounded desperate, animal like, filled with raw pain.

The doppelgänger was scared, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. One day, the screaming suddenly ceased without any forewarning. Donatello waited days to go check on the painted mutant, finally coming back one day with the chest that was filled with multi colored ash. The painting had simply crumbled into dust. 

Now, you sat at one of the many metal tables that Donnie had scattered amongst the lab. The rectangular glasses that you had yeeted from one of Donnie's many junk drawers, was perched on the tip of your nose, as you chewed nervously on your chapped bottom lip. You fumbled with a purple earpiece between your fingers, turning it on and off multiple times, static filling the empty room, the sound matching the nervous dance of your frantic beating heart. Donatello and his brothers had gone off to track down these living mutated paintings. "Shēnghuó huà'," You mumbled to yourself. 

Someone had stolen three out of the four buckets of mutated paint from the lair. You swore that Leonardo had almost had a full on heart attack when he found out, fearing that their home had been compromised. A few days after the paint was stolen, creatures made out of beautiful vibrant paints had come to life and attacked civilians. The stories had started with the slums, with prostitutes and druggies having been found strangled, traces of lead paint around their necks. Others had been found headless, the police brushing it off as a vigilante finally getting the job done.

Unfortunately though, it was much worse. Different types of painted mutants had appeared on the streets in broad daylight, destroying cars, buses, taxis, and chasing after New Yorker's hungrily. A female subway passenger had beaten a graffiti version of Trump in one of the subway stations, but everyone had cheered it as a subversive form of political protest. That was, until the painted version of Trump had bitten the head off of that same subway passenger- then, it had become real. 

You had cried into the plastron of Donnie, begging and pleading through your tears, sniffles, and hysterics for your darling boyfriend to not to go. They still didn't know how to defeat these paint mutants, their only lead being to trap the paintings into tight, controlled environments, and wait days for the mutants to decompose naturally. You had hoped that Donnie would stay back. He had been choked by your own doppelgänger only a few weeks earlier, and his voice was still healing, slowly, but surely. You knew though that Donnie's place was with his family, his brothers. Though he was a major nerd, and his brothers always seemed to find faults with his inventions, he was still a valuable member of the team, and not even you could keep Donatello away from helping them. 

That was why you were now sitting alone in the lab, the lair eerily silent, as if it itself knew that the battle that happened up top would not end well for its inhabitants. You sat in Donatello's black swirly chair, the back of it decorated with stickers that Mikey had slapped on there as a surprise for Donnie's mutation day. Your feet didn't even graze the floor, and you didn't want to bother Donnie by adjusting his seat. Your feet rested on the top of aa large white bucket situated on the ground that was stained with either red paint or blood; you weren't even sure of it yourself. The top of the bucket was securely shut, a chain wrapped around the bucket to make sure that it stayed shut. Donatello had protected this last batch of paint religiously, knowing that if their mysterious thief came back for it, they were going to be without more paint to study. 

A shuddering sigh escaped from between your quivering lips, as you tugged harshly at the cheap silver necklace that hung around your neck. You just felt so damn helpless, so useless, because here you were safe and sound in the lair, and up in the city your friends, no, your family, were fighting for their lives. You wiped the corners of your eyes with your knuckles, pulling your glasses from your face to rub the bridge of your nose. You didn't even feel the tears that spilled from your eyes; you were completely numb to the pain now. You sniffled as you placed your glasses back onto your nose, pushing it up along the bridge. You straightened your back as you placed the earpiece that you had clutched in your hands for the past hour on the table. You couldn't waste any more time feeling sorry for yourself. You just had to somehow find a way to destroy these living paintings. You were a _scientist_ for God's sake! Not some weeping damsel breathlessly waiting for the return of her boyfriend from the war.

You took a glass beaker that held the radiant mixture of colored paint inside, the layer of mutagen atop of the paint glowing mockingly at you. You dipped your pallid paintbrush inside of the beaker, tapping it alongside the top of the glass as you painted a few stick figures on the lined paper of your unordinary notebook. You waited patiently as you placed the paintbrush inside of the beaker and stared at the notebook. In only a few seconds, the stick figures peeled from the notebook, their stick arms grabbing onto the paper as they yanked their little thin legs from the paper, officially coming to life. 

"Okayyy, you three." You exhaled loudly, your very own voice sounding foreign to yourself as you realized in the back of your mind that you were having a conversation with a few murderous stick figures. The stick figures started to punch your arm with their little multi colored fists. You held up a beaker that had been mixed with different types of chemicals, acidic orange juice, ramen, and water- a concoction that you had merely made up because at this point, hey, nothing worked and you were hella desperate. You poured the liquid over the stick figures, your expression grim and set in stone as the mutated paintings began to scream.

Hours later, you held your head in your hands defeatedly, your work space an absolute mess. Your head shot up sharply as you peeled her latex gloves from your hands, throwing them onto the table with a loud slap. Your hair was a mess, sticking up in different angles, your eyes bloodshot. It was two in the morning, everyone having been gone for far too long and no damned update from the stupid bulky earpiece that Donnie had given you. You had been working for some kind of concoction that would kill these living paintings for good, for almost four hours now. 

Unfortunately, though, you were no closer to an answer than you had been when they had started this experiment three weeks before. All of the stick figures you had drawn were still alive. Sure, some had been melted, some had been stabbed, others had been crumbled between your hands in anger- but they still stayed alive. They clung onto life jealousy, and refused to let go, no matter what you threw at them. You snatched up your notebook, scribbling down the latest experiment you had attempted, and failed at. There was one last desperate endeavor for an answer that you could undertake. 

You stood up slowly, pushing back your chair as it ran over a stick figure. It let out a small squeal, as it was crushed, but still stayed alive as it flapped around, pinned underneath the chair. You paid the drawing no mind as you walked to the back of the lab, stepping over multiple abandoned inventions that Donnie had given up at the spur of the moment. All had been good ideas, items that would have helped them during patrol, even mankind. 

Unfortunately, Donnie was still awfully human for a mutant turtle. If his inspiration fizzled out, then he gave up on the invention, especially if it had gone under multiple attempts to work. You stepped over a menacingly looking futuristic gun as you shuffled towards a large safe that was surrounded by something that resembled a Kraang sarcophagus and the frozen glass cage of Timothy. You went under a potted alien tree that had already produced enormous juicy pink fruit, which weighed down its grey branches, as you crouched before the safe, sitting on your tucked legs. You typed in the numbers, his mutation day, as a voice echoed around the lab.

"Mikey- I swear on the grave of Marie Curie, if you are hacking into my safe again I will laser off your shell. Do not test me." A pre recorded sound byte of Donnie blared through the minute speakers hidden on the base of the safe as you only cracked a tired smile.

God, you missed him already.

"And Y/n... If you're the one breaking in, well." A sigh sounded through the speakers, sounding entirely realistic because Donatello himself had designed that machinery- the quality was pristine. "I know that you're curious about what's in here." You stiffened for a moment as your hand hovered over the handle of the safe door.

"I know that you can bypass all my security measures because honestly?" The voice of Donnie let out a small chuckle. "You're smarter than me. But, trust me when I say this, if you're opening this, that means that you're desperate. You're disobeying my rules and I know you would never do that unless something has happened to any of us." His voice paused. "To me." 

You pursed your lips as you let your hand fall, bowing your head in shame as a stray tear bubbled along your eyelids. "So listen to me closely Y/n, my darling. Don't you dare open this door. Get up and leave right now. Whatever is happening, what's in this safe won't fix it. You need to go back to your apartment and stay there. You are not safe in the lair- my love- you are not safe-" Donnie's voice was cut off by you ripping open up the safe door, thrusting your arm inside of the safe. 

You tried your best to ignore the pictures of his family, the cracked empty glass case that once held mutagen, the old broken turtle sanctuary, the well worn down drawn on pictures of yourself, the countless of diaries that spanned to his early childhood to the present. You grabbed what you had came for, a square glass container filled with mutagen, hidden deep inside of the safe. 

No one knew that this life giving, life destroying, sludge was inside the safe. Donnie didn't even know that you had found out about the mutagen either. He used it secretly for his experiments to change himself back into a human, for retro mutagen, anything that needed it. You tried to ignore the sound of your heart shattering into unfixable pieces as you pulled the note off of the container and stood up. The note read mournfully, in the scribbled messy handwriting of Donatello, 'Maybe if I change, she'll love me for real.' You slammed the door of the safe, your body shaking in anger and disappointment in yourself, that you had shattered Donnie's complete trust in you. When he found out, he would never forgive you.

You moved the container of mutagen around in the palms of your hands, your head tilting to the side as you stepped over the many inventions on your way out of the mess and back into your work space. She smoothed out your ruffled sweats as the giant purple slippers decorated with small sewn formulas that you had borrowed from Donnie slapped noisily against the concrete floors. You weren't sure what exactly you were going to do with the mutagen. This was a sacred chemical, something alien that would enter the periodic table centuries after you were long gone. You knew that if mutagen had caused these creatures to come to life, it could also change them back to lifeless paintings. Donnie had had the same idea for retro mutagen. If it had changed them into anthropomorphic turtles, it could easily change them back into humans. Or baby turtles. Or a mush of fertilized cells. He was still working out the kinks. 

Suddenly a noise of something flattering against the ground erupted in your ears as you instinctively crouched down onto all fours, ducking behind a machine that was supposed to fix the hole in the ozone layer, or put another one in there. You peered around the corner, clutching the container of mutagen to you chest, your pestering hands shaking and feet sweating in their slip on's. You pursed your lips as you willed your breathing to be steady as you gazed upon the creature that was rummaging through the lab. 

It was a living painting, resembling all emo art blended into one. It was obviously drawn by a twelve year old graffiti artist with a lot of angst building up inside of him. With a floppy Mohawk of black and purple dyed 2-D hair, multiple piercings, and the body of a furry like wolf. The very cringey living painting was now chewing on one of Donnie's favorite purple hammers, his name written on the side in calligraphy, courtesy of the dork that was Leonardo. You winced as the hammer easily bent in half in the creature's mouth- Donnie would not be happy about that. The creature was interested in some of the many mugs filled with cold coffee that Donnie had abandoned on the 'coffee graveyard' table during the past few weeks. Personally, you preferred tea packed with caffeine, and Donnie had almost dramatically fake broken up with you in what he called a betrayal. Leo had been prepared to propose to you with a crown made out of tea leaves for going to the Tea side, purely to spite his younger brother. To no ones knowledge except yours, you still had the crown, pressed together in one of your weathered down notebooks.

You looked around, seeing that the many tables scattered around the lab could block the eight foot tall creature from spotting you. Donnie had this odd habit of moving around the many scientific tables around the lab at three in the morning because he didn't like the 'energy' of the laboratory. Three in the morning insomnia coffee fueled Donnie was an oddity to be sure, but you loved him deeply either way. You inhaled deeply as you made a crawling beeline for the nearest table, sliding the last few feet across the floor as the creature swirled around, chewing on one of your Chinatown tea cups. You frowned at the sound, annoyed that this dumb oaf would dare eat one of your favorite, albeit cheap and poorly made, tea cups. You pushed your back up against one of the metal legs of the table, pulling your knees to your chest. You knew that if you were caught, you would either have your neck snapped, strangled, or eaten by this hungry living creature.

Neither option appealed to you.

You peeked out from underneath the table, watching as the creature was distracted by the many, many computer and television screens that Donnie had propped up on the wall, showing off multiple shows and news station or screens with bouncing logos or even a slideshow of various pictures of you at one time. You propped yourself up on your knees, grabbing your backpack and as many vials off the table as you could. The sounds of glass against metal screeched along the walls of the lab as you cursed silently to yourself, ducking to the floor once more. 

The creatures head snapped to the side, it's black soulless eyes scanning the room. It wasn't alone.

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, a metallic taste filling your mouth as blood stained your bottom teeth and dribbled down your bottom lip. You pushed all of the vials and the mutagen container into your drawstring purple bag, pulling it shut. Your breathing was becoming more labored and panicked even as you forced yourself to keep silent, as you watched the feet of the creature move along slowly as it sniffed the air. You weren't sure how it had even found the lair, or if it had smelled human and just stumbled down here. How many of these creatures were overrunning the city? Had Donnie and everyone else not been able to contain all of them in the span of six hours, or were they dead and not able to?

You watched as the creature stopped a few feet away from you, as you pulled the strings of the bag around your shoulders, holding the bag in front of your chest. Your knees were scrubbed red from your frantic crawling, and you hoped that these things did not smell the blood in the air. As the creature went to your left, you lunged to the right, crawling towards the next table, ducking underneath it. 

The still living stick figures squeaked in anger as you placed your hands over them, attempting to smother their little squeaks. The creature moved towards the table as you squeezed your eyes shut, holding your head upward. You were going to die and you were never, ever going to see your mom, your dad, freaking Casey, April, Mikey, Leo, Raph, and oh god Donnie, they were going to find your body and you were gonna rot down here because everyone else was dead- 

You pressed a hand over your mouth tightly as you squeezed your eyes shut as you began to hyperventilate. God, just shut up! Suddenly, the creature knocked it's thigh against the table, a vial along with a few other beakers filled with chemical concoctions spilled off the tables, most shattering along the floor. The glass flung everywhere, cutting her exposed flesh and embedding themselves into the skin of the creature's legs. You tried to contain your cries of pain as you opened your eyes, tears spilling like small salty waterfalls. Your eyes fell on the one vial that you hadn't taken, the last chemical that you were going to use. A paint thinning chemical component named Toluenelmethanol- highly flammable, but highly effective at stripping paint away.

If you could combine the paint thinner with the mutagen you had, it could melt these creatures. But, how would you so sparsely cover the hundreds of these paint creatures in Manhattan with the limited quantities you had? Your gaze shot over at the Ozone machine. It turned liquids into gas, and Donnie's idea was to add chemicals that the ozone so desperately needed, along with a few components that would protect the ozone against the pollution that was the first to burn a hole in it. If you could just add the Toluenelmethanol, the mutagen, some water, and some food dye for the aesthetic, the machine could turn these liquids into a gas. With the chemicals it already contained inside, it could make the poisonous gas stick to the skin of these paint creatures and melt them. It could kill them all just so easily.

The only problem was getting a hold of the materials that you needed. The Toluenelmethanol vial and match box were near you, but they were also next to the feet of this paint mutant, who didn't seem to move. The ozone machine was across the lab with the clutter that Donnie had thrown in there, your food dye, water bottle, and the mutagen was in your bag that you had strapped to your chest. You inhaled deeply as you conjured up a plan inside of your head. 

You were getting ready to lash out and get all of your materials when suddenly the creature moved. It started walking right towards the last bucket of paint, a strange chattering sound coming from its mouth. You squinted as you saw the same stick figures, dancing on top of the bucket, pointing towards it. Your eyes flared in fury with a similar anger to Raphael's. Those bastards! You yourself had given them life! Though it was true that you had tortured them, it didn't matter! Technically, you were their mother!

Then, all five of the paint mutants began to scream. 

You covered your ears with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut. The scream was identical to your own doppelgänger that the boys had trapped inside of that chest, though it wasn't as desperate. Their cries sounded relieved, almost excited. Suddenly, the screaming ceased, as the paint mutants stood upright stiffly. 

The sounds of rapid footsteps echoed into the lab from the sewer tunnels, multiple paint creatures barging into the laboratory. They were of different shapes and sizes, three more to be exact. One was a graffiti painting of a famous basketball player, but it's face was distorted by words. The other being of a weeping little girl, the last one being of a cartoonish looking shamu. It was all awfully surreal, with the paintings having blank, empty eyes, the colors on them swirled with others, the paint bleeding off of their chests, arms, and legs. Their bodies seemed almost as brittle as paper as they swayed back and forth to non existent breeze. It seemed as if a wind blew, they would be knocked over. But you knew better. They were all awfully strong, and they would eat you alive. 

You almost burst out laughing at the thought of being eaten by these creatures, it all seemed like a terrible dream. How were you going to take out all of these at once? The paintings began to communicate, jumbled up chatter spilling from their mouths. You knew that you only had a few moments before your stick figure children snitched- you had to act fast. You reached out your hand from under the table, taking a risk as you snatched up the vial with one hand. Your heart beat rapidly in succession. Your sweatpants, for some reason, didn't have pockets! You never thought you would have had needed pockets because you never believed that you would be in a situation as stupid as this. Your shaking hands took out the small glass box mutagen that fit into the palm of your hand, along with the dye and the water bottle. You popped open the top of the box of mutagen, ripping the top of the water bottle off with your teeth. 

The paintings suddenly stiffened, their chattering coming to a halt as they began to sniff the air, forgetting about the white bucket they had been dragging out a few moments earlier. You were running out of time. Frankly, you didn't have any left! You hurriedly poured the water inside, dropped the plastic bottle, opened up with the purple food dye with your teeth and poured it all in. You then added in the vial, glass and all, hoping that the mutagen didn't freak out and mutate the items into some other sort of god forsaken monster. You shut the glass box and shook it vigorously, the sludge combining into a light purple color, the vial melting, cork and glass and all, sparks flying off of the liquid inside of the contained box.

The paintings crept towards the table as you took a deep breath, clutching the box to your chest, counting to ready yourself. You were just going to jump out because, why not? They would find you in a few moments, and it wasn't like you had time for discretion. That was until you felt something move in your bra. You almost shrieked then and there, terrified that there was a roach, or even worse, (looking at you stick figures), stuck in your undergarments, and you would die attempting to rip off your tank top and bra, all the while screaming to high heaven; but you quickly realized that the item that had moved, was in fact a vial of compressed gas, if you ever needed to escape from a tight spot. You thanked the Gods above for your protective scientist of a boyfriend. You thrust a hand into your bra, rummage around with your cold shaking fingers until you pulled out the cork covered vial that was as long as your upper pointer finger.

"Thank you, my little daffodil." You mouthed to yourself as you popped the cork off with your thumb. The bark cork, that was big as a pinky nail, clattered to the floor and rolled from under the table, right in the middle of the already suspicious paint creatures. Their heads craned downward, the paint ripping and creaking from the strain. Their eyes turned to the table, low guttural screams beginning in their throats.

"Oh, for heavens sake-'' Your voice strained out, your eyes wide at your grand stupidity. And, for the first time in your unfortunately young life, you lept into action. It helped that eight separate paint creatures, differing in sizes, art skills, and strength rushed towards you, their jowls sagging, their blood stained hands outstretched. Hey, a shamu with blood in its painted mouth and multi colored hair in its fins would scare any sane person into moving!

You slammed the vial into the concrete, glass shattering as a plume of thick white smoke went up, suffocating the inhabitants. You could feel the chemicals in the gas spreading towards you, it's fog almost inviting as you scrambled backwards, head snapping to the side as your gaze became set on the machine. You stumbled to your feet, one blasted leg already asleep as you shook it frantically, pins and needles embedding themselves inside of your flesh. 

Behind you, the paint creatures wailed and howled frantically, the chemicals in the gas blinding them temporarily, slashing their claws at their brittle skin. You limped frantically towards the machine, slamming your foot against the concrete in some sort of rude awakening, coughing loudly as the gas began to dissipate into the air. You had little time for what you had to do to survive.

You fell to your knees near the contraption, a large silver rectangle with purple pulsing lights, Kraang technology, a funnel on the top and a horn looking piece of metal attached to the side as if it was an odd leaf blower ear. With shaking hands, you ripped open the top of the glass cube, slapping a button and pulling a lever on the side. The contraption yawned to life, vibrating and clattering loudly on the concrete, as you poured the purple mutagen, chemical contaminated sludge down the funnel. A sudden groan came from the machine as information spewed on the small screen on the side of the metal invention.

The first paint creature that tumbled out of the white smoke was the girl that wept, her eyes black and empty as she snarled and wiped frantically at the melting color that dripped off her arm. That's when you realized with horror that this paint creature that only stood at about three and a half feet tall, had a broken off katana lodged into her 2-D paper like shoulder. The anxiety that resided deep in your heart only expanded as more and more of the paint creatures stumbled forth- all having a weapon wedged in a particular part of their bodies. One had multiple throwing stars embedded in its back, one had a chain, with multiple stickers on the orange handles, wrapped tightly around its neck, constricting its wails. The last one had a broken bo staff lodged in between its shoulder blades.

You almost broke down right then and there.

The Ozone machine let out a pleasant whine as the shuddering of the machine calmed, a low hum resonating throughout the metal. You, with your jaw set in anger, tears illuminating your aching eyes, wrapped your fingers around the lever of the machine, drumming them along the cool metal as those paint bastards came nearer. You could practically smell the chemical laced panting, the hardening acrylic as it oozed down their neck and arms.

You yanked down the lever, as the horn of the machine spewed out gaseous purple smoke, billowing out into the faces of those paint creatures. The screams that emitted from their mouths mimicked the one from your doppelgänger, pained, terrified- but you did not feel any remorse. If they had hurt your boys, your Donatello, then you were going to raise Hell upon Manhattan. The shrieks of the paint creatures began to subside as they began to melt, their legs becoming mounds of mutagen and a rainbow array of color, a few of their arms slid off of their bodies onto the ground with a splat, others had their faces melted clean off.

You pulled the top of your tank top over your mouth and nose, breathing heavily as you pulled the lever back down, the plumes of smoke ceasing into a few pathetic purple clouds, before faltering completely. You rubbed away smudges of purple from your face, where the smoke had barely grazed you. The mutagen tingled your delicate skin, but you did not mutate into the piece of trash that you were, unfortunately. You stood up slowly, the hand that pressed against the top of the machine slowly lifting up along with your, curling into a fist. Blobs of multi colored acrylic bubbled and moaned from their mess on the floor, but did not attack you. Even the stick figures had been liquefied, as little twig like arms swung about, attached to the globs.

The first thought that you had was that Leonardo was going to make you mop everything clean until the concrete glistened.

If he was still even alive, that was.

You pushed away the thought as you turned back towards the machine, your eyes gazing across the mess surrounding the invention for a certain item. You made a noise of excitement as you grabbed a long strip of leather, tying it around the handles protruding from the metal ozone contraption. You hefted up the machine with a groan, pulling the leather strap over your head to dig into your shaking shoulder, holding the machine against your hip. Your legs bled from being cut by glass, your knees rubbed raw from crawling on the ground, exhaustion evident in your eyes. But, you were determined.

As you moved around the melted corpses of the paint creatures, pushing your sweat matted hair away from your eyes, you only had one thought on your mind. You knew how to defeat these monsters. You were not going to back down or cower in the sewers anymore. You were coming to save you friends- even if it killed you.

* * *

Minutes after you had left the lair, an abandoned purple ear piece vibrated loudly against the metal tabletop, echoing around the empty lair, the only inhabitants the bodies of mutated paint monsters. The earpiece turned on with a small, frankly quite adorable, ding, static sounding throughout the laboratory. Jumbled, erratic, words spilling out that made little sense.

"Y.....Y/...Y/n!" The voice started, anxiety constricting the teenagers tone of voice, the noises of battle and the familiar cries of the paint creatures in the background.

"Upper... Side... all gone."

"Ge...o-" The lair started to resonate, vibrate, as if an earthquake was attacking the sewer tunnels. But it wasn't. It was the sound of hundreds of mutated paintings, graffiti slogans, and alleyway art having come to life, storming through the sewer tunnels, towards the final source of its life essence. The white bucket filled with mutated paint.

"Get OUT!" The voice finished with a desperate cry as static overcame the earpiece. The lair soon became overrun with murderous creatures made from the imaginations of a few individuals. Never would they have believed that their works of art, made to simply invoke an emotion, change, would become a plague on New York City.

Our four heroes never stood a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you did enjoy reading this one-shot, I’m sure you would be delighted to know that I recently adapted this mini fic into a book with twelve chapters already posted! The plot is different, but the premise of murderous pieces of art is still there! It’s a Leonardo x Reader that goes by the name of ‘Paint’ on my profile. Check it out if you would like!


	2. boat -船- leonardo x reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo winked up at the gang member. It wasn't playful at all.

The boat swayed side to side, the black water lazily sloshing against it's sides, as if trying to seduce the bleeding teenager into a deep and plentiful sleep. Defiant as your personality was- you refused to let it win. Though your scalp had a deep gash that didn't relent in it's bleeding, though your bottom lip was busted, and though your eyes hung heavy, heavy half slits- you would not fall asleep. You were slipping in and out of consciousness, but that was much more different than falling into a deep calming rest that you would never wake up from.

Your head lolled side to side, a trail of blood flowing freely from your nose, in twin crescent rivers, pooling onto the outline of your lips in some sort of serial killer based lipstick. Your pink tongue flicked out, smoothing itself over the blood, smearing it pink, a metal tang echoing throughout your taste buds. Your eyes peeled open most uncomfortably as if they had been glued shut during your sleep, your lungs laboring in their breathing, as a deep ache stabbed at your bosom. You went to move your hand to rub your eye, which seemed to be more blurry than the other. Your arm was, unfortunately, held back by a coarse rope that dug into your flesh, leaving behind deep indents that had been rubbed raw by the rocking of the boat you were on.

You blinked hard. Once, twice; realizing that your eye was immersed in blood, your own, blinding you for the time being. Your other eye, that seemed to fare better than its twin, managed to correct itself and take in the scene before you. There was a space between you and the long white bench that was stained with blood in front of you. Of fish or of a human, you couldn't be quite sure. There was the navigation room, with tinged windows that only held a silhouette of a man. He wore a hoodie, only the occasional glint of moonlight, from New York City's light pollution, mirroring off a pair of sunglasses. The boat slapped against the water as it sped forward, a spray of murky water drenching the already soaked clothes that you wore.

Your ears popped, having been stifled by mass amounts of water and the occasional trickle of blood. Of course, your rattled mind still managed to block noise out of pure spite. The rush of unadulterated sound attacked your thoughts, scrambling them as effective as ever, coupled with the wailing of ambulances and the police, the screeching of vehicles, and of course, the ambience of the human race. A groan was pushed forth between your clenched, pink stained, teeth as your eyes squeezed shut, squirming with tears brought on by pain.

Softly though, as gentle as a breeze fluttering through a bundle of trees, a voice drifted towards you, contradicting against the mess of all the noise battering around you. Calm, a trickle of water down a mountain of pebbles, only caressed the injured teenager, effectively bringing you a sense of peace.

"Bring me down to Brooklyn if I lose my life..." the voice gently sang, powerful in his tone, and yet soft in its message. "Push me down the Hudson and turn on the radio..." The voice was clearer than the water that the boat bounced upon, and almost brought tears of relief to your damaged eyes. It was nice to hear a familiar voice.

"Long islands own are smiling 'cause my soul is fine-" the lovely vocals from the young man that was simply know as 'Lame-o-nardo', was rudely interrupted by the incompetence of a gang member.

" **'EY!** " The amount of Brooklyn accent that ladened the voice was almost comical enough to make you choke on your own blood hysterically in amusement. It was as if the man was a knock-off version of Raphael.

"Didn't I tell ya to shut up about that _damn_ song?!" Swore the man that swaggered around the corner of the navigation room, resembling a burly cliché of a man on steroids, complimented even with a Nazi tattoo smack dab on his monster of a forehead. Ahh, anti semitism. New York never really lost its style. 

You could feel the mutant tense up against you, seeing as you were both tightly tied together, as he faced the front of the boat, overlooking the river. Ironically enough, the same Hudson River he was singing about. His shell dug into the small of your back, as your hair tickled the back of his neck and broad shoulders.

Leonardo didn't answer, and why would he? His weapons had been unceremoniously tossed into the navigation room, under lock and key, and they had actually _spit_ on his beloved mask. The leader would have thrown hands with them if it hadn't been for the fact that they had overpowered his beloved, and he was afraid of what they would do if he retaliated. So, Leonardo did what his younger brother always seemed to do best- he annoyed the _bejeesus_ out of the four gang members on deck.

After a few tense moments, the smooth voice of the mutant rang once more, overflowing with spite. "The sun is nearly gone, the lights are turning on, a silver shine that stretches out to _sea_ -" He paused, a small smile growing over his face as he bowed his head to hide such an expression, even if he was turned away from the gangsters. 

A collective, almost comical, groan rang out from the cluster of gang members on the small boat. You managed to crack a lopsided grin of your own, feeling your own teeth throb as if you had been punched in the teeth, keeping your head low to keep yourself from revealing your state of consciousness.

"Boss- he's singing La La Land again...” Whined another gang member, sounding more like a petulant child than a grown man who took on the personality of a cliche grunt for the main antagonist. From taking note of his shoes, as you glanced over, you guessed that he loved to dance the occasional Irish jig in the blood of his enemies.

"Hey- La La Land is a good movie!” Retorted a gang member that wore white socks with black shoes- a despicable being by your standards. You hoped Leo punched him first. 

"Shut up Eric. La La Land is a bland and overrated movie. It _deserved_ to lose that Academy Award, Moonlight deserved it all along. You should be _ashamed_ of yourself-" The bloodied gang member growled in defiance, before being cut off by a clean left hook by Eric, the gang member with a horrible sense of fashion.

You took this moment to respond back to Leonardo's singing, because why not? Seeing as he was not having a great time belting out the lyrics of a movie that had forced him to cry inside his closet in private rage when they watched it together on their eleventh date- but because he wanted desperately to know if you had regained consciousness. If you were okay.

"I did everything for New York..." You sighed weakly, trailing off as injured as you were, your own voice being foreign even to yourself, unnerving you with the exhaustion that you did not yet feel at that moment. Pain yes, but that heavy stone of fatigue, no.

You felt Leonardo straighten against your back abruptly as if he were a soldier being called to action, the ropes groaning with the movement, stretching against his strong sculpted shoulders, though the gang members didn't seem to notice. The knock off version of Raphael was trying to peel Eric away from the bloodied gang member, who was being strangled by a shoelace.

The memories of the events that had only taken place an hour ago were blurred in your shaken mind. What you could manage to gather though, from pieces and snippets, was that something went wrong and now they were on a boat filled with a team of inept gang members, plus the driver. (Alright, that was an obvious stupid observation- but you were pretty beaten up! You leave yourself alone, ya here?!) A driver who seemed to be chewing on a piece of licorice and humming a ditty as his comrades tumbled around on the slippery floors of the boat. For some reason, you couldn't help but admire the guy for his complete and utter indifference to what was happening around him. It was commendable. 

Your musing thoughts were interrupted by a series of taps by scarred bandaged knuckles against a plastic moist bench. You glared at your pair of sopping sneakers as you concentrated on the pattern. Donnie was gonna scold you when you both came back home to the lair, and probably blasting you two with fire to dry you the 'scientific way'. The water of the Hudson was straight up nasty, and who _knew_ what kind of bacteria was growing in the cotton of your socks.

'Okay?'

Granted, the question mark was improvised in your mind, to convince yourself that Leonardo was not trying to act out that one scene in 'The Fault in Our Stars', though he had done it before. He had, most definitely, been traumatized by that movie. It was close on the list to La La Land. Ruined their sixteenth date as well. Leonardo had banned sappy depressing movies after that. If only he knew that you planned to gift him the book as an anniversary present. Wait until you mentioned The Notebook to him for your thirtieth date, too... 

You spent a few moments trying to remember the lessons of Morse code that Donnie had drilled into your mind, but the stress of the water that pounded against the boat, the swearing from the gang members, the wailing of the city, Leonardo's presence, and the blood drenched shoe that flew past your point of view, all got to you. So you simply twisted your hand around as best you could, and wiggled your freezing water wrinkled fingers into his clenched fist to hold his hand. It was your own way of saying that you were okay as could be in this situation.

His hand fell limp as your slicked hand squirmed into his, the two intertwining their digits as you both leaned your backs against the other. It was the most peace they could get considering the mess you were in. You decided that even though you didn't know the exact reason behind the series of events that led to their kidnapping, you were going to pin the blame on the fact that you both hadn't read the newest chapter of their Space Heroes fanfic together. And from that one blunder, of not following tradition, this series of events had befallen them. It was the only logical conclusion, though Donnie would probably pinch his brow and sigh loudly if he heard such a reasoning. You made a mental note to read that cringey wattpad fanfic when they got back home. If they ever got back home.

'Plan.'

The sudden rapid taps on the back of your hand startled the simple human. But, the word certainly did not confuse you. Of course he already had a plan, ever the dorky solider, the hardened leader, the wannabe space captain.

Painstakingly, he attempted to explain his plan in the least amount of letters that he could force into words. It was a stupid plan, but stupid was just a more accurate word for risky. All you could do was trace irrelevant swirls and designs into his skin and nod as discreetly as you could.

The first was to attract the gang members close enough, so as to thrust such plan into motion.

Leonardo did so by humming out the verses of a song that he knew well from his passage of time on the Internet. "I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world-" he cooed most dramatically, wiggling in his seat as you half died in embarrassment while muttering the addictive lyrics under your breath.

The three gang members that had paused from their murderous strangling and wrestling to catch their breaths fell silent as they looked upon the couple, and then at each other in wonder. 

"Yup," chuckled the Nazi bearing, clean shaven man, dragging his pierced tongue across his busted lip. "The frog 'ere just lost his little peanut brain." You wanted to pipe up to correct the way off reasoning of such a man, but then thought better of it. There was no arguing with stupidity. Though, if Raphael had heard that here was another trash human being insulting his species, he would have ripped through the ropes as they were made out of paper, shrieking like a banshee. Ah, how Raphael's crude anger could come in handy at a time like this.

A voice rang out, a voice that demanded complete silence whenever it was sounded. If only he held that sort of power over his brothers. "Hey," began Leonardo, because who else could it be? "C'mere skin head." Leo almost winced but kept his face stoic, though his right eye twitched at his grammar. C'mere? Captain Ryan would not be caught dead uttering such foul language. Most un-leader like. Raph would have been proud.

The nostrils of the rightly labeled skin head flared as he straightened to his full terrifying height of six feet and six inches, about an entire foot taller than Leonardo Hamato. He lumbered over, and you found it difficult to not loudly gag in distaste at the reek of body order mixed with cigarette smoke and the scent of misogyny.

The man bent down, eyes in slits, as Leonardo delightfully noted swear words tattooed right on his eye lids. He was sure that the mans mother must be indubitably proud.

"What did ya call me?" Sneered the gang member, as his two other comrades stood on either side of their coworker, identical sneers twisting their features. Though Leonardo was sure that he saw one too many pairs of hands shaking. He almost smiled at the fact. There was only one brute that needed to be taken care of. The rest would probably just lay down on the floor instead of fighting back.

Leonardo decided to dabble a bit in that famous Raphael Hamato insubordination that always made the elder contemplate why he was gifted with the curse of life. He sucked air through his pearl white perfect teeth, knowing that if you could actually face him you would roll your eyes at his overacting.

"Well," the leader jutted out his bottom lip, tilting his head to the side as he made his eyes wide and innocent like. A expression that could only be attributed to Michelangelo. "I didn't call you an American," he shrugged, a grin spreading across his features.

"Why ya piece of s-" Began the tattooed man, pulling his arm back, cocking his shoulder, as he swung his fist right towards the perfect features of the mutant.

He never got to finish his curse word, as Leonardo had firmly grasped the fist of the skin head, the words 'MOMY' hastily tattooed onto his knuckles. The leader boredly thumbed at the bandages on his right hand, raising an imaginary eyebrow as he looked up the gang member.

The skin head spluttered, most unlike the terrifying mountain of a man, trying to yank his fist from the grasp of the 'frog', his face one of pure shock as he met the hardened eyes of Leonardo. Last time he had checked, this ninja had been tightly tied up along with the other chick.

Leo winked at the gang member. It wasn't playful at all. “Time to go night-night.” He grinned.

The skin head looked up to see a flash of red as you slammed a fire extinguisher into the base of the mans forehead, right over the tattooed swatiska. You couldn't help but feel a giddy sense of retribution for inflicting such damage. Oh, how proud Raphael would be for such a sudden act of violence in the name of justice.

"Really?" You panted as your arms shook with the extortion you had just put in, as the mountainous like man dropped to the ground, causing the boats tip to dip inward at the sudden added weight, adding to the gallons of murky water sliding about on the already slippery floor. "'Time to go night-night?' Shame on you Leonardo.” You cracked a grin, your right eye painfully squeezed shut, a ripple of blood streaming down your cheek, an aesthetic against your skin.

Leonardo huffed loudly as he moved swiftly forward, stretching out his arms out to curl his digits into the collars of the shocked gang members shirts. "I don't need your mouth now, Y/n.” He retorted as he hefted them over the side of the boat as they loudly thanked the 'ninja frog' for showing mercy. The two loud splashes were overpowered by the sounds of two very girly shrieks as the hardened gang members came in contact with the freezing water of the Hudson River.

"Maybe later.” You grinned widely as you tossed the fire extinguisher to the side. Though the stretching of your lips hurt your bruised bloodied face, you found it worth it as his green face darkened to a shade similar to Raphael's mask. And though Leonardo had fought aliens, humans void of any compassion, and rage filled mutants, he still crossed his arms over his chest, bowed his head, and scuffed the heel of his foot against the plastic of the ground.

"Oh Lee.” You chortled as you bent down to pick up one of the discarded guns of the gang members, the weapon feeling foreign in the palm of your hand. "I'm just teasing." You paused for a moment as you turned the gun over and over in your hands, getting used to the weight, a smirk still tugging the corner of your lips. "Maybe."

Leonardo decided to change the uncomfortable subject before his ravenous hormones and animal instinct took over. He decided to do what he did best. Scold and reprimand. "No guns.” His voice came out clipped as he looked down at the beast of a man unconscious on the floor next to him, his limbs all up and twisted due to the uncomfortable position he had fallen.

"Leo.” You began gently seeing as they had no weapons, and who knew where this boat was even heading to?

"No." His voice was stern, no more of a playful tone to it. He was in his natural leader state, or that wall he put up to pretend that he wasn't a scared kid that was making everything up along the way. He took a few steps forward, easily stepping over the bench that only moments before, they had both been confined to. He held out a calloused hand for the gun, his lips slightly tugged down. Guns were not used by ninjas, it wasn't their way. It was a dirty, brutal, form of murder and any untrained person could get their hands on one. Leonardo couldn't count the times that he saw the life leaves the eyes of innocents as a spray of bullets attacked them.

You recalled all those nights when Leonardo sat on the edge of their bed, hunched over, cradling his head in his hands. The amount of times he wondered out loud if he could have done better, if he shouldhave done better. So yes, you did hand off the gun to him, but only because you understood.

His voice was soft, a tone that he only used for his beloved as he took the gun in one hand, grasping yours with his other. "Thank you," He mumbled, pressing his lips to the base of your knuckles, a wrinkle between his brow as his eyes narrowed. His head snapped up sharply, eyes turning wide as his mouth opened to say something- but all too late.

You heard the click of the gun before you saw it. Your head turned as you stared down the weapon trained to the base of your head. You could practically feel Leonardo's anxiety spilling off of his skin in sheets, though he kept himself surprisingly composed. He did not let go of your hand.

The driver of the boat stood in front of the couple, one hand fingering the chewed to a pulp licorice in his mouth, his sunglasses glinting to the reflected moonlight, a cocky grin on his lips. "Now there," He drawled as you decided at that moment that, contrary to what you had said before, you did not like this man. "Who do I have to kill to avenge my bosses murder?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, composing yourself, before they fluttered open, a determination set in them. A part of you believed that you had not killed that skinhead, while the other, more logical side of you that sounded, annoyingly enough like Donnie, knew better. Then there was that Raph like voice, grunting that a nazi like that deserved it. Nothing from Mikey's side, he was probably exploring the depths of your mind and trying to find some embarrassing memory, or something that could be snacked upon.

"He's gone," Leo's voice rang out, being whisked away by the wind and the sound of rushing water as the boat kept on pushing forward. "You can go back and claim his title.” He attempted to convince the gang member, tugging on your hand as you slowly took small steps backward. His padded arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into his side as he attempted to put space between them and the deranged gang member. The driver stepped forward as the couple shuffled backward, as if they were in a trashy form of line dancing.

"Nah.” The driver ground his teeth together, rolling the nub of black licorice between his teeth before swallowing loudly. "Maybe I can kill yer girlfriend here," he hummed, his lips perked up into a greasy grin, the long shining black hair that stuck to his shoulders like tar not helping that fact. "And bring back the little alien that our buyers are so interested in..." The man trailed off as he tilted his chin downward, peering at you with hungry eyes.

"An even better idea," Began the driver, as you stared back with defiance, though the saliva in your throat seemed to become a thick congealed mass, making it difficult for you to even gulp. You were sure that his idea was going to be as perverted as that look in his eyes. "Would be to injure you, and take this little slut here all for myself," he sneered, resembling more of a weasel than a man at the moment.

"Slut?" You guffawed, your fingers itching to strangle this bastard, or, since you didn't want any of his greasy hair oil on your skin, at least slam that discarded fire extinguisher into his crotch. You would be doing the entire female race a favor by destroying his baby maker. "That's it.” You declared, lifting up your knee to balance awkwardly on one foot, attempting to wrestle your drenched shoe off. "Let me defend my honor against this asshole, Leo.” You asserted, murder in your eyes.

Leonardo's arm only tightened around your cold drenched waist, a warning that did not need any words, your bloodied fingernails digging red crescents into the green skin of his arm. You glanced over at him, noticing for the first time of how battered and beaten your dear darling looked. A large deep cut sliced from his upper jaw, running ragged to his chin. It had mostly clotted, but his neck was drenched in mostly dry blood. The colors contradicted one another. Red against green. How lovely.

Your eyes naturally dragged down to the white knuckled grip that held onto the gun that you believed that he had gotten rid of. The way he was all tense, as if he was about to pounce into action, and his _eyes_. His eyes flickered about, flurries of emotion bursting forth as he battled his emotions in his head.

And then, like a fool, the gangster spoke again.

" _C'mon_ princess. You need a real man. Sure- you might end up being unconscious-" The gang member that represented all that was wrong, swaggered forward, gun trained on you, as his hand reached greedily out for you. He didn't get to finish his sentence because Leonardo panicked.

Granted, saying that this leader panicked was much better than revealing that everything that happened afterward was premeditated, because that meant accepting the fact that your boyfriend was a murderer.

A gun went off and you gasped. In future recollections of that memory, you edited out that one gasp. It reminded you of the crippling fear you had felt in that one moment, and that was not something you wished to relive.

It took many long seconds for you to attain the courage to open your eyes, wondering if you were in the depths of Hell, the labored breathing of both yourself and Leonardo filling your mind. When you finally did peel them open, laying your gaze upon the awkward sprawled body of that gang member, you felt nothing.

A sort of numbness, similar to a calm, fell over you like a veil. Not a wedding veil, like the one you imagined in your daydreams, but one of death. You watched as strands of greasy hair floated atop of the inch amount of water that covered the floor of the boat, as red blood turned into pink curling tendrils in the murky liquid. You were thankful for the sunglasses the man wore, though you did see a glimmer of his dead black eyes for a moment, before averting your gaze to Leonardo.

He was taking it as well as you would expect. His protective arm had fallen to his side, his hand still grasping the gun as if it was his lifeline to the simple teenager he had been before. His eyes were glued on the body, and you swore you could see his moral standards shatter before him in the form of a corpse.

His persian blue eyes peeled from the body to stare blankly at his beloved. "How's that for defending your honor?" The sudden attempt at humor to cover up the atrocity that he had just committed was weak, incredibly fragile. His gaze pleaded for you to play along, for if you didn't, he wasn't sure what he would do with himself.

A nervous breakdown was right on the horizon of New York City for Leonardo's mind, as the couple stared at one another in silence. The swaying of the boat, the corpse, the spray of cold water, and the gun that he still held was all that could be noticed in that moment.

You quietly raised up your hand, the tips of your fingers stained red as you gently caressed the skin above the swollen cut on his face. You swallowed harshly as a smile fluttered across his chapped lips.

"Yeah.” Your voice cracked as you both closed their eyes and pressed your foreheads against one another in a desperate attempt to keep your shared sanity intact. "That was pretty good."


	3. cat -猫- michelangelo x reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A squirt of water splashed on the felines face as she fell back screaming.

The soles of your rainbow checkered Levi's slammed onto the plastic of the parade float, the sudden pain ricocheting throughout your bruised legs. A small squeak escaped your lips, as it was torn away by the bellow of the great crowd surrounding the sidelines of the parade.

The sudden explosions of firecrackers dancing across the street, as women with painted faces and large intricate dresses simply twirled around the small eruptions as the crowd roared in joy and song. Dragons with blinking eyes, shaking heads, with billowing smoke erupting from their flaring nostrils, pairs of colorfully dressed legs stomping about in a rhythm underneath them. Masked men dressed in white shirts and red pants swung about poles holding large lanterns. The streets were littered with confetti, smoke, burnt out fire crackers, as the ground seemed to vibrate with exhilaration and the beat of life.

Chinese New Years was one _hell_ of a festival.

You kept running, your mind eagerly using the pure excitement captured from the crowd dressed in various assortments of colors, to fuel your own movement. Your heart was pumping erratically against your chest, your breath rapidly hyperventilating as your body seemed to scream and curse at you in it's pain riddled rage. But you wouldn't stop running.

You sprinted past the moving animatronic arms Chinese emperor mascots, crying out the glorious phrase, ' _Gong xi fa cai_!', to a crowd of thousands. Ducking quickly under a swinging lollipop, your eyes were pinned on a very lanky mutant wearing a black hoodie. With agile quick movements, the perpetrator ducked, slid, leapt, swung, and twirled around her obstacles. It was almost impressive if you weren't seeing black spots in your line of sight. _oh it's because I'm lacking oxygen_ , you casually thought as your lungs wheezed for air.

Speaking of someone who made you casually lose your breath, another hooded mutant appeared next to you. Seemingly out of nowhere, with a large grin that reflected the light of the festival being his signature look.

" **HEY**!" Michelangelo screeched over the sound of explosions, coupled with more screaming that lowkey seemed to be coming from your own mouth. Coupled with animatronic booming voices, fireworks, and the life like roars of the puppet dragons that swung back and forth along the floats.

" **WHAT**?!" You gasped as the two of you gracefully stumbled from one float to the next.

"You're cute when you're having an asthma attack!" Chirped the bright eyed mutant, the two panda ears attached to the top of his bright orange hoodie flopped about as adorable as his smile.

You cried out a sudden apologetic gasp riddled 'sorry' to the various victims of the black hooded mutant who had begun to shove various models off of their platforms, all while laughing maniacally. This chick really _was_ annoying.

"Thanks? I guess?" You yelled back over the ceaseless noise, your eyes dodging from your cheeky boyfriend to the slightly psychotic mutant who was just having a great time.

You, the ever flustered teenager slapped the broad shoulder of your beloved as you both hopped off the side of the chaotic float, multiple models picking up their fallen crowns, crying over broken nails, helping the others up, and one throwing a very loud temper tantrum at having her moment ruined. The crowd kept cheering.

"Can we please focus on tracking down the very evil, very crazy, cat-mutant-alien, goddess wanna be?!" You coughed out, pressing your hands against the burning skin of your cheeks as you two began to run along the sides of the great of floats, eyes trained on the minuscule, pink aglow tracking device, four little legs embedded into the shoulder of the chaotic mutants hoodie. The little bug seemed really happy to be helping, as she pulsed in color, causing the transmitter downloaded onto your phone in your denim jacket pocket to vibrate against your hip bone.

You only spared the phone a momentary thought, linking your arm with your sweetheart as both of your pairs of racing legs seemed to be in sync. All you had wanted to do was sit on a nearby rooftop, cram unholy amounts of pepperoni pizza into your mouth, and _watch_ the stupid festival. But _no-_ Leo was apparently _unavailable_. Having gone out with his beloved to investigate some suspicious activity concerning the purple dragons on a dock in the Hudson River.

They had been closest to the scene when the fiasco began.

Somehow, this thing, that had not been seen before anywhere in New York, not on any of Donnie's special 'mutant monitors', or any news report of rogue mutants, but only today. On January twenty fifth, a day that had begun with Raph's recently washed motorcycle frozen to the concrete ground, had this mutant appeared.

She wasn't just _any_ regular mutant, oh _no_ , that would have been too _easy_ for you guys. She claimed to be the savior of mankind, boldly hissing at a news reporter to snatch up his microphone, scaling the body of a ten foot tall Chinese Emperor, and yowling that she was, in fact, Bastet, Goddess of Cats, Daughter of the Sun God.

Yet, the crowd loved her. Cats in both Japanese and Chinese culture were considered good luck, and she just looked so _cute_. With her little twitching pink nose that caused dozens of cameramen to simply zoom in on, the voice that held a screech like tone, and the fluffy furry cheeks that just made the crowd awe in unison. Yeah, she was cute, but according to Donnie's two minutes of Kraang research, she had killed before, and her threats of world domination were unnervingly true.

"I have an idea!" Mikey's joyful voice rang out, as you almost swore that your feet were becoming numb blocks of stone at how much physical exercise they were enduring. You both deserved a spa day filled with lazily playing video games, clay masks that pulled at your skin, eating junk food until you two were indubitably sick, and actually sitting down.

"Does it have anything to do with that spray bottle you just whipped out?!" You laughed breathlessly, almost passing out, your hysteria mixed in with a little bit of tears from the ache that rattled across your chest.

A small smile of guilt sheepishly spilled onto Mikey's lips as he held a Clorox bottle in his hands, having whipped it out from... god knows where. "You know me so well dudette!" He chortled, nudging his beloved in the side with his elbow.

You exhaled loudly, a weak smile fluttering along your chapped lips, as you turned your gaze to focus on the feline mutant who refused to stop running. You had forgotten how _stubborn_ cats could be when avoiding humans. What really concerned you though most was how Mikey was going to get close enough to spray this cat-

The feline back flipped off of a float filled with women in traditional dresses, painted white faces, and fancy hairdos dancing with their large skirts in synchronization, landing in front of the couple. You and Mikey skidded to a stop, your eyes wide as they stared at the feline in silence. The feline stared back. Her ebony black tail, one that was as long as the average person's arm, flicking in agitation.

The trio simply stared, Mikey's free hand slowly squirming into your clenched fist. The felines fur glistened in the light emitted from the various lanterns, along with the sudden flashes that came from the firecrackers below, and the fireworks above. The canines of her teeth were barred, glinting and flashing at the pair with almost a warning of what she could tear with those. Her psychedelic neon green eyes were aglow as they seemed to swirl with specks of insanity-

A squirt of water splashed on the felines face as she fell back screaming. 

A burst of laughter equipped with a shocked **HURK** blurted from your lips as you slapped a hand over your chapped mouth, head snapping to look at your boyfriend who looked as shocked as you were. The children separated from the scene by a metal gate cheered on Michelangelo, one with dyed neon green hair roaring and waving around a plastic sword with what she assumed was ketchup on the tip.

Mikey kept on spraying the writhing feline as she twisted about on the confetti covered street, a half deranged grin on his face. It was only at this point that you began to get worried.

"Vengeance!" The felines scratchy voice howled out, her back arching as her paws batted at the onslaught of water attacking her face. "Death!" She hissed, eyes squeezed shut as her hood began to become stained with sprays of water. " _Dishonor_!"

"You got jokes, huh?" You scoffed as you placed a hand on Mikey's wrist, coupled with multi colored homemade bracelets, courtesy of his beloved. You turned your attention from the feline to your sweetheart. All they had to do now was tie up the feline with one of those plastic handcuffs he had once used to chain himself to his video game console so he wouldn't have to go to bed. Then they could return to their abandoned pizza and continue their date-

That's when the feline kangaroo kicked you in the face with her back paws, landing on all fours above your shell shocked self as you clutched at your bleeding nose, swearing quite loudly.

"You _dare_ contain the great **Baset**?" Hissed the mutant, glaring back at a shocked Michelangelo, her wet hoodie limply flopping back over her stiff pointed ears.

Mikey sprayed her in the face once more. The feline screamed and scampered down the busy street, the floats still casually passing by her.

The mutant turtle fell on his knees, tossing the spray bottle to the side as he grabbed your shaking wrists, eyes wide in shock. "Y/n? _Y/n!?_ Did she break your beautiful face?! Please say no!" He spoke rapidly, his mouth a blur.

A child who had been looking on at the fiasco occurring, unlike the thousands of other New Yorkers who had gotten quickly bored of watching a mutant turtle and a human harass a feline with water, waved her chubby little sticky hands through the metal bars. "Her face is **DEAD**!" She shrieked in horror, squishing her face between the barriers.

You shot up, your nose a _little_ bit bent to the side, crimson blood trailing down your upper lip, dusting your peeling mouth red. "What did she say her name was again?" You spoke, your voice congested as you had, surprisingly, cussed out all the pain you felt inside.

Mikey let out a sigh of relief as he clutched the sides of your face in his hands, a sheepish smile on his lips. "Baset. Isn't that dumb? I mean it's like," his voice became a hushed whisper as he narrowed his eyes. "I'm all about that bas, 'bout that bas, no treb-" he was cut off by his beloved's not so patient voice.

" _Mikey_?" You spoke hurriedly, a hand placed over the one that held you cheek, as you looked over your shoulder.

Mikey blinked. Once, twice, before shaking his head as his gaze refocused on his beloved and not the elevator music playing in his head. "Huh?"

The child that had been watching their interaction pointed at where the feline was racing down the street, yowls of annoyance coming from her as she clawed at her dripping wet face. "She's gettin' away!" Crowed the proud little girl.

"Oh yeah!" Mikey grinned, giving a thumbs up to the very observant child. "Thanks dudette!" He wrapped an arm around your waist, yanking YiuYou up along with him as you both took off running, _once again._

You pinched the bridge of your bleeding nose, grimacing as your palm filled with blood, dragging your tongue over your front stained pink teeth. Your head shot up to glare after the feline, who seemed to run with no purpose, no goal in mind, as if she just _wanted_ to be caught.

That was good enough for you. 

You looked over at Mikey as your legs seemed to be a blur underneath you, your arm wrapped around his hoodie covered shell. "Mikey! Get that cat lady! _Tackle_ her!" You called out over the cheers of the entertained crowd, pinching the base of your nose with a grimace and a loud pained wince.

Michelangelo only glanced over at you with a half adrenaline rushed, half confused grin. "Did she kick you in the head too?" He questioned worriedly.

You only snorted lightly, worrying that maybe he was right and you were going crazy. "No, just- tackle her! Raph tackles you all the time, right?" You were answered with a slight bobbing up and down of his head. "Then tackle _her_!"

Mikey nodded, pecking your temple just in case you really had a concussion, released your waist, increased his speed by simply invoking the power of Sonic the Hedgehog, and tackled the screeching feline to the ground.

You simply quickened your pace, clasping your nose with both hands as you your her beloved's booming voice cry out, "You have committed crimes against Skyrim!" You couldn't help but smile at Michelangelo's jokes, sure, they seemed like ones that dads would use, but you digressed. Though your nose was now beginning to throb, and your poor feet had given up having any feeling in them.

An inhuman scream ripped from Baset's mouth, terrifying Mikey into simply rolling off of her, sitting up with wide eyes as he held up his hands. He took a nervous glance at you, as you wiped your blood stained mouth on the back of your denim sleeved wrist, leaving behind red saliva as Baset screamed again. This time, with a deeper, roaring tone.

The crowd of New Yorkers were in silence, staring at the feline on the street, writhing in pain, roaring as if she was one of those swinging puppet Chinese dragons carried by various men. The children pressed against the barriers stared bug eyed, some with candy hanging out of their mouths, or fingers squished into their nostrils. Everyone was frozen.

You and Michelangelo began to watch with a mixture of horror and pure childlike joy, along with the rest of the citizens, as the once human sized, actual definition of what a furry was, went from a regular mutant, to a growing beast. Mikey swung his arms backward as he scooted to press his back against a nearby barrier, his hoodie covering his head from the rest of the crowd. The hoodie that had wrapped around her upper body simply ripped in half as if it were a simple sheet of rice paper, her jeans simply exploded from her thighs. Her growing body knocked over a nearby float of, luckily, a golden dragon built out of thousands of flowers. It kerplunked onto its side, a cloud of gold carnations being tossed up into the air, gently floating down. That didn't matter to anyone, as a great, twenty foot tall, fifteen foot long cat towered over the couple. Snarling, green eyes aglow in the fireworks, a sheen gliding over her silky ebony black fur.

" _Oh_ ," She purred, rocking her head side to side, a smile growing over her face. "This is **much** better."

The citizens of New York had lived in that city to know that this cat was either going to eat them all, offer them as possible experiments to the Kraang, or bring them as a sacrifice to the Shredder. Her earlier threats of taking over the world slapped the minds of every single human as they turned on their heels and ran off in a great panic, screaming as they fled. People were trampled, barriers pushed over, floats abandoned, dragons simply tossed to the ground and crushed underfoot, firecrackers burning pant legs and melting the soles of sneakers. The street was soon abandoned and silent.

"Cool!" Mikey's tinny voice rang out from his seated position against a toppled over barrier. He sat with his hands neatly clasped in his lap as he watched the giant ball of fur with a look of admiration in his baby blues.

Basets head, which seemed to be the size of a giant's fist, snapped to gaze down at the tiny mutant near her paw. You wanted to scream and run around in circles in fear, but a part of you stayed insanely calm to admire your boyfriends sweet demeanor. Even after he had just minutes before sprayed this cat with water, something that evil little demon children have done at least once in their lives, his mind was too clouded with optimism to see that this cat could easily snatch him up in her jaws, and shake him until his brain became turtle soup. But there was one thing that you hadn't been expected.

"Cool? I reveal to your pitiful mind my true, _beautiful_ form, and you dare call it _cool_?" Sneered the monstrous feline, as her paw, that was about the size of an average car, stamped against the ground, sending up a cloud of burnt out firecrackers, tattered clothes, confetti, flowers, and a very terrified pigeon that simply flew into the night.

_Baset had an ego._

Mikey shrugged his shoulders as he once again glanced over at his beloved before craning his neck upward to smile at Baset. "Double cool?"

"No, no, Mikey." You began with a loud voice, jutting your chin into the air as you strode over, though your quaking knees almost made you collapse into yourself like a marionette. "She wants to be triple cool."

This simple explanation made the mutant nod slowly in all seriousness as he jumped to his feet, clasping his hands. "Cool." He looked up at the dumbfounded beast. "Now we have to stop you." His face was grim, and for a moment you were taken aback at how serious he seemed. How much his eyes were so much like his brothers and the way the lines around his mouth became more evident whenever he frowned. It was _terrifying_. Last time you checked, you liked to cuddle and kiss Michelangelo Mikey Mikester the Prankster. **Not** Leonardo point two. You held back the urge to slap Mikey to somehow make him laugh and smile again.

"Uh," You cleared your throat, side eyeing him in mild panic as you forced a small smile as you gave a quick wave up at the cat mutant. "Shouldn't we wait for backup, from uh, you know," You whispered quickly, glancing nervously at the beast once more. "Backup? The _military_ for instance?" You squeaked.

"She's going to knock down every building like a bull if we don't stop her. And no matter how awesome that would look, we can't let that happen ma'am." He spoke back just as quickly, never letting his eyes leave the bored beast who had begun to lick at her paw.

"Do, do you have a _plan_ , sir?" You muttered, letting your fingers curl into the material of his sleeve, gently tugging on him.

A slow deranged grin grew on his lips that reached his eyes as he looked down at you. "Oh _yeah_."

Michelangelo cupped his hands around his mouth. "So where's the speech?" He yelled, letting his hands fall to his side as you began to reverently pray at his side. The pizza was probably cold by now, damn it.

Baset allowed her overgrown paw to drop to the ground, as it sent vibrations shaking along the dead street, causing a few more metal barriers to fall over and loudly clatter against the ground. "I beg your pardon?" She purred. If she had eyebrows, they would have been raised in confusion and slight amusement.

Mikey huffed, looking over at his frozen still, wide eyed, terrified girlfriend, with a roll of his eyes coupled with a look that said 'is she serious' that he had learned from Raphael. You pursed your lips as tightly as you could, the skin paling. You tilted your head at Mikey, trying to convey the very important fact that you were internally screaming at the moment.

He realized he wasn't going to get any help as he turned to face Baset and sighed. "You know! Every single villain always explains their reason for world domination, they have a whole speech planned out before they kill the heroes-" You pinched his hand, hard. "Kill the world!" He made a quick side expression with his face that he was just babbling at this point, which calmed her down, but only a bit.

"Well," sighed Baset loudly, ever the drama queen. "If you must insist..." she cleared her throat, it sounded like a thunderclap, as she began. "With myself in power, Mother Earth will flourish. No longer will mere humanoid monkeys _rape_ the earth for their own personal gain, using her to satisfy their own selfish personal needs, breeding their disgusting offspring into the millions- she will breathe a sigh of relief and heal for millions of years to come until she is burned up by the Father Sun- e-excuse me?" Her head snapped down to glare at Mikey. "Are you... Are you falling _asleep_?" Guffawed the feline, rows of sharpened teeth as large as small children glistening in the moonlight.

Mikey snorted himself awake, as he looked around, confused at the chaos around him, rubbing his eye with his fist. "Huh?" He muttered groggily, lazily looking up at the mutant.

Basets mouth was open as she looked over at yourself, who seemed to have the facade of being equally bored. "Does he do that a lot?" 

You gave her a one armed shrug, wrapping your arms around Mikey's forearm as you rested your chin on his shoulder, nodding. "Yeah he does that a lot." You cracked a lopsided grin that seemed to reflect her boyfriends common one. "His older brothers absolutely hate it." 

Baset nodded slowly, eyeing the couple, her audience, in slight distaste. "Oh. Well. As I was saying... Humans will become an extinct species, never to be heard from throughout the galaxies ever- _**what**_?" Snarled the beast, psychedelic green eyes becoming glowing slits as Mikey raised his hand.

"How are you gonna take over the world though?" Michelangelo placed a hand on his hip as his foot tapped impatiently. You had _supposedly_ fallen asleep slouched against his arm, drooling against his sleeve.

"Oh, simple. Cats."

Mikey blinked. A smile grew over his freckled features. " _Cats_?" He snickered. His laughter awoke you, as you smeared your tired features all over his shoulder, sniffling as you stared upward at Baset.

"Yes. Felis Catus. Or, as you people dare call them, _Cats_."

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as you refused to let go of him. "That's stupid. Even for _me_."

"Mikey." You half begged, half sobbed; a word that usually meant, 'I love you but please shut up or else this egotistical cat will claw us both in half.'

Mikey winked at you before staring up at Baset, awaiting for a response. He didn't have to wait long.

Baset made a series of choking sounds that made it seem as if she was attempting to wretch up a hairball. " _Stupid_?" She snarled out in disbelief. "Why you mewling quim-" She took a step forward, her paw lifting up as her claws slid out.

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, or was that vomit? Oh well. At least you had made sure to tell Michelangelo that you loved him six times that day already.

"How long have you been here on earth?" Mikey questioned with a smile. You pried open your clenched eyes to side eye your boyfriend in confusion. Why was he so confident all of a sudden? Sure, he was a confident lad, but, this was the sort of puffed up confidence that Leonardo used against the purple dragons, or something like that. You were too panicked to think straight. 

Baset paused, her paw hovering over the couple as if she was a human about to bring down a hell driven sneaker on a pair of roaches. Her furry face was twisted up into confusion. "Only... two days. I didn't want to miss the festival." Her voice seemed unsure, tiny, as if she was a mere kitten.

"Okay." Michelangelo wrapped his arms around your waist, yanking you against his plastron, never taking his gaze away from Baset. Your breath hitched as you pressed the side of your face against his chest, trying to make yourself as small as you should against him. Was that another nose bleed she felt coming on? "Call them."

Baset placed her paw back on the ground, tilting her head slightly to the side. Her ears twitched, one folding back in confusion. "What?"

"Call the cats. Start the invasion Cat Woman! Do your little mind control bit and tell them your plan. How you're going to murder all their humans and leave them without slaves- I mean masters!" He grinned. His hands gripped your denim collar as he flipped it up, wrapping his arms around your upper back. You glanced up at him tentatively but did not move. He really did have a plan, huh? Not that you were complaining, you were just surprised. You had to remind yourself to shove this particular moment into the faces of his overly confident older brothers, if you both survived to tell the tale. Donatello was probably watching this all go down on the streets security cameras that he routinely hacked; all in the safety of his underground lab, the bastard.

Baset's mouth opened and closed as she went cross eyed for a moment. Her tongue flicked out to drag against her joules as she tossed her head back, an ear piercing yowl echoing throughout the city.

Michelangelo pressed his face against the top of your head, grimacing as he squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers dig into the back of your shoulders as you gripped at his jacket covered shell. You could feel both of your hearts beating rapidly in sync. He was as terrified as you.

Baset became silent as the city was still.

The ground began to move. Slowly, a slight vibration that could barely be felt underfoot, until it became bigger, rattling the metal barriers on the floor. Michelangelo tightened his grip. You pressed a small kiss against his neck and closed your eyes, trying to calm your shaking sweating body as the hell began.

Four little paws gently pattered against the street, a slight purr resonating in it's throat as it wiggled between your legs and Michelangelo's, it's tail curling around both of your ankles, wiggling in and about.

A cat.

Baset's purr was much louder, it seemed to move the very buildings surrounding the street they were on. " _Hello_..." Cooed the great cat mistress. The plump cat with a collar that rang a little bell whenever he moved, approached Baset, who crouched onto her stomach, purring gently.

You could feel more cats scampering towards Baset, as they all seemed to rub against your jeans and leave behind hundreds of multi colored hair. You cracked an eye open to lift your head to gaze over Mikey's shoulder. You really shouldn't have.

Thousands of cats ran down the street, alley cats, tabby cats, house cats, street cats, Siamese cats, Persian cats, grey cats, black cats, brown cats- they were all running towards Baset. All with a quizzical expression across their fuzzy faces, tiny paws putter pattering into a wave of noise, coupled with confused meows and yowls of hello to their fellow comrades. 

The cat in front of Baset approached her slowly, a low incessant purr escaping him. He crouched in front of the great beast, reached out his little paw, and sliced Baset's nose open.

Baset jumped to all fours, yowling loudly as her pink nose bled freely, coating her black fur crimson. "Brother! What have you- wait!" She screamed, as the cats began to crawl up her four legs, digging their claws as they slashed at her fur and flesh. They all yowled in unison, blocking out the terrified screams of their cat mistress, as some simply attacked her flailing tail, being launched into the sky by doing so, others pounced at her toes, while still more kept coming.

The sea of cats grew, rising and rising as the cats piled up on one another, pouncing from the backs of their brethren to latch onto Baset's face, tearing out chunks of flesh and hair, biting and hissing.

You and Michelangelo were tossed around as the sea of cats rose to their hips, a few digging their claws into your arms, tearing apart both of your legs, one even latching onto your head to launch herself at Baset. The cat didn't make it, she simply disappeared under the sea of cats.

"Mikey!" You screeched over the roar of the living sea, your clawed cheek bleeding as your dug your nails into your boyfriend's arms, as the sea began to pull you both apart with a vengeance and under.

Michelangelo breathed heavily, terrified eyes flickering from the sea, to Baset, to you. "This is fine!" He called out over the howls of the cat mistress and her former allies. " _This is fine_! **_This is fine!_** " He screamed, attempting to reassure you as best as he could as he grasped at your elbows.

Baset began to slowly sink, not even recognizable by now, patches of bleeding skin glistening under the moonlight, her eye clawed out and gushing blood. Her left ear was torn off, the right side of her jaw having been eaten away, presenting the glowing white bone underneath. Her pain filled shrieks of betrayal were slowly whisked away as she went underneath the mass amount of felines.

Your head was barely above the sea by this point, your eyes irritated by flying fur, your mouth filled with hair as you coughed and struggled to breath. You couldn't feel your hands on Mikey's anymore. Your terrified eyes met his own scared baby blues, and you, weirdly enough, felt peace as you were both pulled under. Cats paws pushing against your face, ripping apart your clothes, clogging your eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

_cats, cats, cats._

and one fading, distant thought;

_Leo's gonna kill us for dying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave kudos if you enjoyed this chapter! It gives me the serotonin needed to continue writing! :)


	4. apocalyptic -終末論的- raphael x reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are they still out there?"
> 
> Raphael snorted, leaning away from the boarded up as he turned his head to gaze upon the human. "Really? What do you think?" He scoffed, banging his fist loudly against the battered wall as a stray bullet slammed through the wood against the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for death.

You let the bitter liquid drip bit by bit from the brown bottle into the glass you gripped in your left hand, humming a little tune to the empty bar you were in. Scattered chairs, flipped tables riddled with bullet holes and abandoned knives stabbed into their sides. Broken overhead lights with the glass shattered and wires hanging from the ceiling. The ground was covered in dried blood, bile, sticky stains of where evaporated alcohol once was. Feathers, chunks of bloodied fur, scales, and all kinds of human remnants laid in piles in the corners of the lifeless bar. It was a pleasant place, or it _had_ been, before the rebellion. 

Now, you found solace in watching the drops of brown liquid dribble into your little shot glass, one by one, drip by drip. You dragged your tongue along the rim, lapping up the little bit of alcohol you could catch. You shuffled your feet back and forth along the footrest, pieces of broken glass crunching underfoot along with half smoked cigarettes. You reached forward and pushed one of the beer taps daintily with your fingers, letting out a small sigh as it groaned but refused to spew any of the golden liquid it may have had left. The bar top was littered with bloodied hand prints, a few guns scattered across, and a bottle cap that you kept on rolling across the leather armrest.

Outside, the brick walls were being constantly pelted by bullets. The windows were long gone, replaced with wooden slabs shattered by the prior riots led by bigoted humans against mutants. Humans. You were one of them. You exhaled loudly, pressing the battle cap into your forehead as you leaned forward ever so slightly.

"Are they still out there?"

Raphael snorted, leaning away from the boarded up as he turned his head to gaze upon the human. "Really? What do _you_ think?" He scoffed, banging his fist loudly against the battered wall as a stray bullet slammed through the wood against the window.

You glanced to your side as the bullet flew into the wall opposite of you, riddled with shelves of decapitated beer bottles. "Don't patronize me." You muttered as you held the glass to your lips, allowing only a dribble to enter your mouth. Your taste buds burned and your throat contracted, but you would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. It made you feel something other than the melancholy that had begun its long journey to suffocate you.

Raphael exhaled, rubbing the back of his scarred neck as he peeked through the cracks of the window once more. Dangerous, _sure_ ; there was the possibility of a bullet lounging itself into his eye or even his brain- but it would be a less painful death than what awaited him outside. Police cars with their incessant wailing sirens, blockades of tanks and guards, even the _military_ awaited them.

The last leaders of the rebellion to be found in Manhattan, the last mutant and mutant sympathizer in the city.

Everyone else had been evacuated out into the country, where it was safer, isolated, and, most importantly, _away_ from the people that hunted them. Tucked into the forests of New York, where they could create a civilization with mutants at it's front- until the world was finally ready to accept them. The Sanctuary. A stupid name, for sure, conjured up by the little mutant children who had been one of the firsts to step upon the land. It was the first time any mutant had ever felt safe in their homeland. Where they could breathe a sigh of relief and live as regular people; where the young ones could play, where they could eat without fear of poison, drink without fear of harsh discrimination, sleep without any fear of being dragged from their families and tortured; living without the constant pestering of the rest of the human race.

Raphael would mostly miss the children. Those kids with their tails, scales, teeth the sizeof his fingers, pupil less eyes, gills, or fur. Those small, curious little buggers who would cling to his arms and wrist and swing back and forth, would scale up his body to sit perched on his shoulders, or would tug at his hands to show off their forts made out of sticks and pieces of lumber stolen from piles set aside for the construction of other homes. Those same children that would make him crowns, made of feathers and flowers and sticks and other little trinkets they managed to find, who would weave dead vines around his wrists and would proudly declare him the Guardian of the Sanctuary. Those fleeting memories brought him a sense of peace that had left him in the past two days, hunkered down into a hell hole.

The rebellion had started small. A collation of mutants gathering in the sewers, living out of makeshift huts of cardboard and steel, living out of abandoned cars and subway carts that had been dragged into the tunnels into hollowed out homes. They revered the four mutant men as heroes, leaders of a miserable little group of bitter angry discriminated humanoid animals. Those four brothers had been fighting for their freedom ever since they were mere teenagers, and were a symbol to the former humans and animals that had been forced to change.

It didn't take long, it barely took an entire day for the Revolution to explode into full force.

That day was still so vivid within you and Raphael memories.

You had been in the safety of the overcrowded lair, sitting on a bean bag in the living room, bouncing a toddler covered in scales with a little nub of a tail on your knee- watching the television as the horrors unveiled before you. Surrounded by other mutants, wailing, crying, pleading to whatever miserable God they believed in to grant them mercy.

Raphael, on the rooftop of a small apartment building, in broad daylight, watching as a group of human men lynched a young mutant, (he knew the kids human parents and had warned this particular feline mutant to stay away from the day, but like all other mutants, they craved the sunlight). The men had wrapped a rope around the teenagers neck, and dragged him through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Crowds cheered on the sidelines as taxis and cars stopped to watch the show. Humans stepped forward to stomp on the mutants tail, pointed ears, bleeding paws, ripping off his clothes to pass around in the mob. Finally, they tied the bleeding unconscious mutant to the back of a garbage truck, and dragged him throughout the city until he was a mutilated beaten mess.

Raph hadn't been able to do anything. He watched as this mutant, (his name was _Percy_ , **damn it!** ) stared up at the rooftop desperately, knowing full well that there had to be a protector out there. Someone who had watched him grow from an annoying kid who clawed up his knee pads, into an annoying teenager who made fun of his 'outdated' knee pads. He had been that kid's hero, or at least, one of the four. Percy had found one of those heroes, locked eyes with him, and screamed out his name.

Raphael didn't do anything. He knew he himself would have been torn apart by that mob. He knew he would have betrayed the safety of other mutants, and he knew he would have failed his family. He had simply watched, like a coward.

All he had been able to do, as the mob dispersed to their daily life, the murderers congratulating themselves and heading off to a bar before they could return to harass the body once more, was pick the kid up. In his arms. Percy. Lifeless. Neck snapped, eyes wide, fur matted with blood, and bring him back to the sewers.

Perseus Smith had been the first to be buried in the Sanctuary. The kids liked to leave cans of coca-cola on his grave, a memory to his favorite pastime- which happened to be watching the sunrise while downing about three cokes simultaneously, before burping the alphabet to the amusement of the children.

Raphael hadn't been able to face the kids parents. He had simply shuffled deep into the crevices of the sewers with a pack of beer, warning everyone, _especially_ the kids who would follow after Raph in a straight line wherever he went, not to follow him. You had, of course, ignored him. As Leonardo comforted the horrified parents of Percy, (who soon disowned their own human race and quickly joined the ranks of the many mutants of the Sanctuary), you had sat with Raphael well into the night. You had been babysitting an orphaned infant with freckles and patches of black fur, which Raphael took great comfort in quietly cradling, as you both had sat together in silence. The soft cooes and giggles from the babe coupled with the two downing as much alcohol as they could, offered some... solace. A last drunken hurrah to the teenage feline who started off an entire revolution.

The government soon began to crack down on mutants, who retaliated out of pure spite. Gathering all the half mutated, fully mutated, or humans with animal deformities into the deep sewers, barricading the tunnels off with walls of trash from the landfills. The government still pushed on, arresting any human suspected of cohabiting or cooperating with mutants, which forced the human allies into the sewers as well. Many humans had married mutants, had created hybrid children, or were simply friends to the cause. There were deformed Kraang soldiers, repentant scientists, ex-foot soldiers, former police officers, teachers, and simply regular people.

The Sanctuary had been found completely by accident. Yourself and a few other humans had been attempting to track down April's farmhouse, (who had gone off to college in California with her sweetheart, Casey, leaving the farmhouse in the hands of her trusted friends) and had stumbled across a large cleared out piece of land. Unclaimed. Unknown. Surrounded by forest, mountains, and a stream of freshwater. A little piece of paradise.

It had become their home.

The problem that had forced Raphael and yourself into a hellish former mutant bar coupled into the fact that not everyone could leave for The Sanctuary. Many had to move in groups through the sewers, the tunnels, at early hours when most of the city was asleep. They had to slip by soldiers and officers on the watch, avoiding any human who was not on their side; in fear they would be turned in to the government for the price on their heads.

Then, there were a few who simply didn't want to leave. Their human spouses or parents had good jobs, a stable life, and didn't want to uproot themselves to live on a patch of land. To build up a civilization when they lived in one of the most popular modern cities in the world.

Leonardo had finally been resorted to threatening these mutants- that if they did not leave New York they would be left behind. Abandoned to the authorities, without their culture, their family of misfits to support them. The problem was that it was near impossible for these families to leave without any help. The police were closing in, their neighbors had become increasingly suspicious, and most had children, which made it too difficult to abandon everything at a whim.

So, of course, Raphael and you had taken one look at each other, strapped themselves with guns, beer, and fruit gummies, and trotted off towards the city.

It was a stupid thing to do, true, and Leonardo had been so angry that he had punched a dent into a tree, but Raphael felt he had to live up to Percy. And you certainly were not about to let him die alone, without you pestering him into the grave that you would both soon share.

You owed him that much, at the very least.

Now, as you slowly slumped from your bar stool onto the sticky wooden floors, your head tilting as you eyed the stoic mutant leaning against the door, you didn't regret your decision. All your life, you had been too scared to persevere, to take chances and damn the consequences. You had been a timid fragile naive kid before meeting him, and changing for the better to understand the cruelty of the world, without ever becoming a part of it. You had grown into an adult right beside him, your partner in crime, your other half. There had been no doubt in either your mind or his that you would not join him down into the maw of the beast.

Working alongside Raphael for the past two days had been... chaotic. Full of taking shots, lightning one another's others cigarettes before smashing them against concrete walls prior to coaxing your way into apartments. Packets of fruit gummies and beer made sure that children or suspicious teenagers opened their doors. Raphael would keep watch through the windows, cracking open the glass to poke the tip of a rifle through, just in case an officer came sniffing around. In his teenage years, it would have been unthinkable for him to kill a person of authority, let alone another human- but those days were long gone.

You always made sure to busy herself with the mothers and wives, helping them pack their few belongings, throwing late scarves and jackets over the mutant children and (surprisingly enough) the elderly, to hide any features that pinned them as mutated abominations. You were the one who to stuff the makeshift maps that you had sketched out on the back of subway pamphlets, just in case any of these survivors became separated from yourself or Raphael- they could find their way to their new home. In the back of your mind, this whole fiasco reminded you of the Underground Railroad. These mutants were enslaved to society, beaten down by their human masters, with little hope of escape, or surviving to the ends of their natural lives.

All had been going well. The small ragtag group racing along the eerie streets of New York City at three in the morning. Pausing, peering around corners, holding their breaths as cars went by, paper made noise against the sidewalks, or a passing alley cat that didn't seem fazed by their presence.

Then everything had gone to hell.

You exhaled as your glass cup clinked against the ground, your free hand drumming against the wood. You let your head fall against the metal of the stool, as you felt a wave of nausea rush over. Two days of living off whiskey, beer, and lots of tequila really did break apart your health. You had a weird craving for fresh water and vegetables. Ugh. One last meal for the ones on Death Row; wasn't that the rule? 

You felt the wood creak and groan as Raphael lowered himself to the ground beside you, one hand gripping a glass and the other a flask. The two of you were silent as you both stared ahead at the boarded up windows, as the gunshots slowed, before coming to a halt completely.

The end was near.

"Do you think they made it?" Your wavering weak voice rang out, being absorbed into the bars walls, bringing silence into the room once more.

Raphael paused from his pouring of his whiskey into the cup, clearing his throat as he glared at a dagger stabbed into the wood above the window. There was a s clump of skin and feathers pinned into it. "Yeah." He grunted, continuing the pouring, before popping the cap back onto his flask.

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm serious. We haven't heard _anything_ on the walkie talkie. For all _we_ know, the group could have been captured." You held your shaking glass to your dried out lips, taking a small hungry sip.

Raphael rolled his eyes back, balancing his own glass on his knee as he carefully plucked yours from your hand. He unclasped his flask, and dumped the rest of the liquor into your cup, filling it to the brim. "Look, we did the best we could for them. I gave them four handguns, and you gave them maps, food and water-"

"It was _supposed_ to be for us-" You interrupted with a grumble, glaring at the liquor in your cup as you dragged your tongue over your dried out lips.

"And we gave them a way out by distracting those assholes out there... honeybee." Raphael huffed, propping himself up on his knees to drag the two large guns off of the bar top, into his lap.

You scoffed, taking another sip as it burned the back of your throat as if it were pure bile. "Honeybee." The word spilled from your lips as if it were poison. Sure, the nickname brought warmth and happiness to your hardened heart, but the worst part was that it didn't mean anything. "What happened to normal nicknames that _friends_ call one another? Ya giant...” you sighed, trying to think up of an insult. “Jerk.”

"Well, you're so used to calling me _Raphie_ that I just had to get back at you." Raphael yawned, his voice a bored drawl as he took a swing out of his flask. He draped the back of his hand across his forehead, a small annoying smile on his lips.

"Fine. You get to call me honeybee one last time, and I can call you Raphie until we're brutally _murdered_ by an onslaught of bullets." You snapped, rolling your eyes at the thought of being thrown into a mass mutant grave and having your corpse burned. At least you would die alongside Raph. You wondered if that was a deep seeded fantasy inside of your, or just your overall sense of loneliness attaching itself to this grumpy hunk of muscle.

"Alright. I'm fine with that." Raph glanced down at you, throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side, rubbing your goose bumped ladened forearm.

You huffed quietly, your brow narrowing as you snuggled up into him (you were about to die, might as well get some affection in), sipping your drink as you glared at the brittle wall before you. "Did you ever think that... it would end like this?"

Raphael snorted, leaning his head against yours tentatively as his eyes lazily glazed around a bar that held so many memories. From getting drunk with Casey, to arm wrestling with any mutant who dared challenged him, to your intoxicated throwing yourself on him for a sweet kiss that you had never been able to fully recall. "No. I thought I would end up dead in an alleyway; drunk, alone, at the ripe ol' age of eighteen." His solemn words seemed wrong attached to his casual, slightly cheery tone.

"Awe.” You huffed, annoyed that you felt bad for him. “Raph-" Your mouth was clamped shut by his hand being placed over your lips, as you glanced up at him with an inquiring look and a raised eyebrow.

"Wait- I'm thinking up a depressing, yet encouraging sweet speech. One that Leo would probably say in this situation- and I don't need you ruining it with your cute little quirks." He looked down at you, brow furrowed as if he was scolding you for speaking.

You simply nodded, peeling his hand from your mouth to keep on sipping the whiskey that kept you from going off the edge.

"I didn't think I would live this long until I met you, Honeybee."

A heavy blunt object slammed against the barricaded entrance door to the bar, the walls shuddering from the excess force. Shouting erupted outside the establishment, as orders were sounded and pairs of stomping shoes stormed towards the door.

Raphael did not seemed fazed, and you simply increased the rate of your drinking.

"I was an angry, lonely, drunk kid who was really pissed at the world and wanted to fall asleep for... well, _forever_." Raph sighed, rapping his knuckles into a rhythm along the metal of the guns in his lap. "And then... I met, you." His words melted into warmth, soft for such a rough voice. He allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he quietly began to nuzzle his face into your hair, trying to remember how soft your hair felt and how it always smelled like coconut.

"Guess we both saved one another, huh?" You scoffed quietly, eyeing the rattling door a few mere feet away from them. "Though, I do think I was a lot more drunker than _you_ , pretty boy."

"From the amount of beer bottles around here," Raphael began, kicking away an empty glass container that clicked and rolled around the wooden floor. "You're definitely right."

"Aww, you're too sweet. Thank you!" You snorted bemusedly, licking your burning lips as you tossed the shot glass to the ground as it shattered across the mess of a wooden floor. You draped your shaking arms around his neck, your right hand dragging along the scars littering his plastron that wasn't quite covered by his worn down jacket.

"Well... We should get going, then."

"Yeah. We should."

Neither of you moved from your spots. You both held on to another tightly, trying not to focus on how short your lives would end up becoming. For one night, you two pretended that you were the couple you both had always hoped to become. Fulfilling a dream that both had had, but were always too terrified to chase after.

You stood up first, shaking and disoriented, but able to yank Raphael to his feet. You brushed your hands against his scarred weathered face, with a small loving smile, wiping away the bits of dust that rained down from the crumbling ceiling. Raphael kissed your forehead, with a softness that he himself did not know he had been capable of before pushing a gun into your hands, his final gift to you.

"Hey, um..." Raph muttered, wiping down the sleeves of his scratched up leather jacket, glancing over at you with a nervous gaze, making him feel like a teenager all over again. One that felt foreign; considering his usual personality. "I-"

"I know, Raphael. I've always known." You shrugged with a small smile, though it broke your heart, as if you could _feel_ your soul decaying and spreading its sadness across your body. The alcohol hadn't been able to numb the love you felt for him.

Raphael nodded. He attempted a smile, but it wavered quickly, as it couldn't find the heart to do so. You both moved towards the bar door, glancing at one another as the shouting from the outside increased in anger. You both wished to remember what the other one looked like, before you were both ripped apart by bullets. Before you became unrecognizable in a river of blood and chunks of hole riddled flesh, broken apart by violence.

Raph inhaled, and slammed his foot into the door as it burst open in a shower of splinters. You rushed forward to meet death head on, trying not to reveal the tears glimmering on your cheeks at the flash of the flood lights from the street, at the realization that you had been too stupid to say that you loved him back. You were always too late, and this time, it would be permanent. No re-do's.

Your story was finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since somebody left a really amazing comment, I immediately attained the serotonin needed to post this chapter. Thank you, furin! <3


	5. cat fur -猫の毛皮- michelangelo x reader sequel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "... Mikey, why are you a dragon?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to my previous Mikey x reader, cat! So, if you’re confused or your mind doesn’t recall the events of that oneshot, please read it before starting this one. Thank you! And let’s see if you guys who have been following my writing can pick up on the Easter eggs in this story... anyway, enjoy!

You woke up to your nose clogged with the long hairs of a blended assortment of alleyway and pampered cats, a loud cough exploding from your numb body. There was cat fur covering the lining of your throat, and clinging to your tongue, the insides of your cheeks, stuck on the base of your lips- oh god, you were _drowning_ in it. A weak wheeze sent a wave of shock throughout your battered corpse of a body as you peeled your eyes open, only to have the fallen metal barrier in front of your face dip and sway in your foggy vision. You were clutching something tightly in your fist near your face, opening your palm near your vision to see, oh look, more cat hair! You made a noise caught between a whimper and a grimace of disgust, wiping your hand along the street that was scattered with hair. This was definitely _not_ sanitary.

And yet, you did not move. You were not ready to face the hair, the confetti, the chaos, the aches, and that specific pain that had begun it's numbing throb along your left leg. You felt tears pinprick your eyes and allowed them to flow, which gave a bit of relief to whatever gross particles had invaded your pupils. You shoved your arm against the street, and pushed yourself up with trembling limbs, your forehead dragging against what little concrete was exposed. through the blend of fallen color as you sat upright. You hugged your knees, loud abrupt coughs racking your body, coupled with frantic gasps for air as your nails scratched wildly at your neck, leaving behind angry red marks. There was something in your _throat_.

After a few long seconds of what felt to be tiny faeries dragging splinters along the lining of your jugular, you spat up the _thing_ that had invaded you. A... hair ball... You stared at your creation dumbfounded, rubbing at your blurred vision with the back of your wrists, the only skin that wasn't being attacked by hair. How many times had you said hair already? No matter, you had bigger problems at the moment obviously. You eyed the clump wearily before tossing it aside with a wet sad splat, wiping your saliva covered palms on your denim covered thighs, which only meant more irritating hairs stuck to your skin. Good _god_ , you were going to have to take a soak in the bath for three hours just to feel clean again.

Wait, **_Mikey_**.

You felt a panic well up in the form of a lump in your throat, (not another hair ball, just some casual anxiety), looking around the silent chaos that had unfolded around you. As you took in the scene before yourself, you were surprised to see that it wasn't as bad as you had imagined it. Being involved with a rag tag group of vigilantes meant always coming face to face with battlefields of what were once city streets. This certainly didn't look like a war zone, but more like the aftermath of a protest. The glass windows of various small shops that had been shut for the festival had been shattered by the piercing death scream of Baset moments before you had been consumed by the sea, There were abandoned floats the size of freight trucks strewn off to the side of the street, pushed up against buildings, or tossed on their sides as if they were toys abandoned by turbulent children. Scattered metal barriers reflected the flickering electricity spewing lamp posts that were bent and twisted as reminders of what had occurred here, reminding you of skeletal remains in a desert.

You squeezed your eyes shut, rubbing the lids with your fingers, which just happened to be another least contaminated thing you had that was part of your body. You had to look over at the last place you had seen Baset before she had been dragged under a sea of cats, hundreds of thousands it had seemed, screaming into the sky. You prepared yourself for carnage, for hungry street felines lapping up blood and chewing on the flesh of her body. Of cats wandering along her spine, hopping into holes they tore into her corpse. Already, you felt sick to your stomach, feeling a lump well up in your throat.

Truth be told, a part of you felt immensely guilty for the role you had played in a death. A murder, one might say. Sure, she had been a greedy egotistical alien maniac who probably had some problems in her head, but maybe she could have done it if her plan had been more refined. It honestly seemed like the sort of idea a teenager would have once they had gotten tired of humans- and maybe that's what Baset had been. A mere kid, like yourself and Mikey. She was dead now though, nothing could change that now. That didn't stop you from feeling guilt, and already you knew that you wouldn't forget her, or her memory. She was the type of strange occurrence you would one day tell your future teenager, one who would probably ignore every word out of your mouth. Goodness, you couldn't wait.

You opened your watering eyes and looked to your left at where you had last seen the great self proclaimed Goddess of Cats, Baset.

There was nothing there.

You blinked, once, twice, and rubbed at your eyes harshly, seeing sparks of color spring up in the darkness behind your eyelids as you looked once more. Absolutely _nothing_. No reeking corpse, no skeletal remains licked clean by greedy street cats, nothing, _nothing_ , **_nothing_**!

You pressed your hands flat against the ground, pushing yourself up with your feet with a grunt as you stumbled forward, righting yourself before you ripped your face clean through a slide against the concrete street covered in snoozing cats. You looked around on the ground, small curled up balls of multiple colors, making little snores, squeaks, even a few pawing at the ground. Sure, a few were wandering about yowling, and giving you rude side glances, but none were Baset.

You began to perilously make your way through the street filled with deadly cat mines that would probably tear your ankles into pieces if you accidentally stepped on. Or worse, they could easily leap upward and claw off your face. You shuddered. You did not want an experience with any cat if it wasn't positive at the moment. Though with what you had been through, it seemed like the felines wouldn't strike any fear in your heart unless they were over sixty feet tall, or a power hungry goddess.

Slowly and cautiously, you made your way through the giant long bloody outline of Baset. Chunks of fur blending with the golden and red confetti, along with pieces of meat that you only glanced haphazardly at. Now that you thought about it, many of the napping cat's little fuzzy chins were caked in dried red... You shuddered. That certainly wasn't a pretty way to go.

You stopped right outside the outline, holding the sleeve of your jacket as you grimaced at the smell of rot. Those poor janitors who would have to clean this mess up, and probably with a worried mindset that a murder had occurred. Would the rest of the world know about Baset and her mission? Or would the government cover it up as easily as they did with mutants, the Kraang, and the Shredder? It felt as if no one online talked about them, like something sinister was at work here. There was a sense of foreboding, of something much bigger than you, that you played a part in ever since you had joined forces with the boys. Your boys. Your friends, and, subsequently, your boyfriend.

Speaking of him...

"Mikey?" You began, though you were immediately caught off guard by the sound of your rough hoarse tone, having more similarly with Raphael's voice when he woke up in the morning than your usual one. You cleared your throat, your eyebrows furrowing as you nibbled on your bottom lip, looking around you. Fear hadn't yet sunk in, and your exhausted brain hadn't made the connection between disappearing Baset and your missing sweetheart.

"Mikey!" You called out again, craning your neck up to the sky as if that would make you louder. You curled your fingernails encrusted with fur, dirt, and bits of green skin as you glared up at the night. "MIKEY!" You shouted once more, your anxiety soaring through the roof.

"I'm up! I'm up!" A panicked voice came from behind you as you quickly swirled around, just in time to see a giant dragon head rise from a pile of napping cats, who yawned and slid off without a care onto the cold concrete.

You stared at the dragon, who's dramatic colors of red, yellow, and splurge of bits of blue, green, and and black glared at you. It's lower jaw was missing, probably ripped off during the commotion of the festival, making it look stupider. Your lips couldn't help but twitch upward into a small smile as you crouched onto your knees, feeling your bones creak and groan as if you were an ailing arthritic elderly person and not a 20 year old in your supposed prime. You hooked your fingers underneath the intricately painted snout of the dragon head, and tilted it upward to meet the blinking in exhaustion baby blues that you knew as well as you knew the skin on your hands.

"Hi, baby." You whispered, making sure as to not startle him, as it was quite obvious he had waken up from a plentiful nap, being suffocated by an army of cats and, for some reason, wearing the head of a dragon.

"Hi." He yawned widely, his entire face smooshed by the constraints of a paper-mâché costume that was not made to contain someone's head. He smiled up at you sweetly, as your heart melted, and you realize he had a dimple in the lower left side of his mouth. Precious. You wanted to kiss him, fueled by the euphoria of being not dead, but the glaring dragon was in the way. 

"Where'd you get the head from?" You wondered as you grabbed his hands and helped him stand, the cats sliding from his lap onto their little paws, stretching and yawning.

"Well." Mikey began, with the energy of someone about to erupt into a grand tale, as he lifted the head of the dragon to rest against the top of his head, as he rubbed his tired features with orange sweater paws. "I woke up, and couldn't find you. And this cool dragon head was right next to me, and I always wanted one. So, I put it on. The end." He frowned at his story, disappointed at his lack of usual excitement and hand gestures, as he looked at you.

"It also hid your face from any nosy humans." You pointed out, as you reached out to brush clumps of multi colored fur clinging to his once orange jacket. It was no use. The more you brushed away, the more the fibers tore apart and spread out, clinging to the cotton material.

"That's true." Mikey yawned as he shuffled forward, taking off the dragon head and letting it tumble to the ground as he rested his head against your shoulder, sighing against your exposed neck. He smelled like pizza.

The pizza! You two had _completely_ forgotten about it! It was probably still up on that rooftop, being torn apart by greedy good for nothing pigeons and dancing rats. The only rat you liked was Master Splinter, though he hadn't liked that kind of compliment, for some reason.

You exhaled as well, resting your cold chin against his head as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into the warmth of your chest. He was frozen cold, but you had learned a long time ago that for some reason, these boys didn't exude body warmth. They didn't go into a coma, or just die. They kinda were just... warm blooded. It was a whole mess of genetics, and whenever you mentioned it to Donnie he would go on this rant about 'DNA', and 'mutagen', and 'being combined with the genetics of a human' and all this weird crap that had made you flash back to your college classes, which you did not like.

"What time do you think it is?" You wondered out loud, too lazy to grab at your phone, and half dreading having to fetch it from your back pocket. A part of you feared it being shattered into a hundred pieces, or that you had left it up on the roof with the pizza, or about thirty missed calls and text messages from your mom who would probably skin you alive, and then proceed to yell at your skin for coming home at whatever ungodly hour it was.

"Um..." Mikey began, messing with the ends of your hair wearily as he kept his eyes shut from all the lights of the city that usually overwhelmed his senses. "Like, two. I think. I don't wanna check my phone, my bro's might be texting."

You had completely forgotten about his brothers, and dreaded having to endure a _another_ long talking to by the leader in blue, who seemed to become more dad like with every passing year. Next thing you knew, he would probably be wearing cargo pants and barbecuing cauliflower slices, because apparently he was _vegan_ now. Just something more insufferable to deal with, you guessed. You loved the guy, but man did you want throttle him. 

Another thought struck you like a subway train as you let out a groan through clenched chattering teeth.

Mikey immediately lifted his head, though he didn't open his eyes and only faced his scrunched up face towards you. "What's up?"

"Mikester, I have pre-calculus at eight am..." You sighed, craning your neck towards the sky as you linked your numb fingers against his freezing shell.

"That sucks. You should just sleep in, with me." He shrugged quite nonchalant about the matter, seeing as he had never endured the hardships and cruelty of early morning classes, as he once more rested his head against your shoulder, snuggling his cold face into your warm neck. It sent shivers down your spine. It was just that skin on skin contact that you could never get used to. It felt oddly taboo, in a way. 

"Don't tempt me." You chortled, grabbing his fur covered mask tails from around his neck, and dragging the pads of your fingers down the material. Clumps of hair developed between your hands, as you rubbed your fingers together and let it all rain onto the floor. The wind caught the hair, and scattered across the street with the thin layering of carpet like fur.

"I'll use my handcuffs to chain you to my bed, or something." He mumbled, as you knew from two years of dating that he absolutely did _not_ know what he was talking about. You knew that in a few moments he would be snoring as loud as his brothers and you would have to stand here in the middle of the street, and explain to the poor janitor who was severely under paid as to just why you were holding a green turtle man in your arms, and what exactly you were doing in your life to have led up to this so he wouldn't make the same mistakes.

"Mm." You hummed, busying yourself with tapping your pointer finger against every little freckle that blessed his round face. "We have to head home."

"And the pizza?" He murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist, and the other around your shoulders so that he could prop up the side of his face against it.

You sighed, knowing how much acrobatic skill and maneuvering it would take to get to the special place on that rooftop. "We can get it while heading home. I think there's a entrance to the sewer, with those weird.... pot cover things." You huffed, waving a hand over his shell as you tried to figure out the name for it.

"A manhole cover?" His voice now sounded sleepy, and you knew you had to push him away, or he would fall asleep.

"Yeah." You nodded as you kissed his temple and pulled your hands away from his shell, placing them on the sides of his plastron as you pushed him away. "Stupid name." You muttered as Mikey began to whine and tighten his grip around you.

"Cmon, we can cuddle at home. If we stay out here any longer, Leo's gonna drag us back to the lair." You sighed, rubbing at your eye with your free hand as he begrudgingly agreed by releasing you only slightly, as you both stood side by side, holding onto one another.

"Wait." He said, opening his eyes though they were narrowed and a bit glazed over from a lack of sleep, as if that simple act was an annoyance. He reached down and picked up the abandoned dragon head, brushing off cat fur and placing it back over his head, resting against his shoulders from its sheer size.

"You look like a Minecraft character." You snorted, covering your mouth to hide your smile.

You could see a smile of his own through the open jaw of the head, as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his side. "Cool! That's all I've ever wanted to be." He grinned before yawning loudly with such a violent shudder that it made you shiver as well.

Slowly but surely, the two of you made your way through the deadly labyrinth that were sleeping alley cats. It seemed to span as far as the eye could see, as the two of you walked in silence.

"What do you think happened to Baset?" The dragon, turtle mutant hybrid wondered, attempting to rest his head on your shoulder, but only bonking you in the process as he quickly gave up.

"Maybe she went back to the stars." You wondered out loud with a shrug, not really wanting to spend this much talking about she who must not be named.

"That would be cool. Do'ya think she lived on a star too? It would probably beimpossible, but I kinda want to visit it one day." You only listened to his rambling half heartedly, as you weren't sure how to respond.

"I think she'll be back one day." Mikey finished a few moments later, as he narrowly escaped stepping on a snoozing felines flicking cat, which would've meant the end of his existence. "She seems like those kind of villains that show up at the finale to try and kill the heroes, but ends up leaving on a cliffhanger that you know just means that our protagonists survived cause the producers are cowards."

You looked over at him with a slight concerned expression, raising your eyebrows. "Well, that might just be bad writing, Mikey." You pointed out, trying to soothe him before his thoughts made him start screaming about plot holes and how stupid it was that Buzz Lightyear believed that he was a space ranger on a new planet looking for any signs of life, but froze like the other toys whenever a human walked into the room. Believe me, it had happened before. Far too often. And to be completely honest, you usually joined in with these rants of his as well.

"Yeah, you're right. I can't control my imagination sometimes, I guess." He said with a sheepish grin underneath the giant dragon head.

You ducked your head beneath the weird helmet to kiss at his jaw quickly, before pulling away. "And I love every moment of it, so don't you dare change; mmkay?"

He nodded his head so violently that the dragon helmet went lopsided for a moment to reveal the giant blush on his freckled face, which only made your smile grow bigger.

You turned your head towards the street as the sea of cats dwindled the farther the both of you walked away from the festival grounds, as you caught sight of the silhouette of a person moving towards you two. You stopped, digging your nails into his lower plastron as he stopped moving as well.

".... am I hallucinating or can you see that?" You wondered out loud, your head snapping over to glare at your boyfriend as if he might be a hallucination as well.

"Nah, I see it too." He said with a slight pout, righting the giant dragon head he wore. "I think it's a friend!" He crowed with a grin as he began to run towards the mysterious figure.

Your heart lept into your throat as you gasped, trying to grab onto him, but he was much too quick. You began to sprint after him as well, keeping a close eye on the figure that kept on walking towards the two of you. Funnily enough, the weirdly shaped figure seemed to morph into someone holding something else in its arms.

Mikey and yourself came to a screeching halt in front of a battered Leonardo who held his dozing off girlfriend in his arms.

Your unlikely group all took turns in staring at one another. You at the grumpy girlfriend, then at unamused Leonardo, and then at the giant dragon head which made you burst out into such a fit of laughter at the stupidity of its face that you slapped your hands over your mouth before you summoned Baset. 

"... Mikey, why are you a dragon?" Leonardo's rough voice questioned, most of him in the shadows as he was a skilled ninja in the way of concealing himself and the beloved he held. You and Mikey though, were just plain stupid when it came to being stealthy. Sure, maybe if Mikey was on his own, he could be considered competent, but with you, all of that went into the trash. Aka, the former fiasco of chasing down an alien on the actual Chinese New Years floats, showing off Mikey's face to the world without a care.

Mikey stared back at his older brother, dragon head comically tilted up to stare as well. "Because I look **great** in it, right Y/n?!" He crowed, placing his hands on his hips as he bobbed his head up and down.

You responded right back with a cheesy grin, placing your own hands on your hips as you nodded up and down.

Leonardo sighed, ever the dad friend and older brother as he squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowed. "I-I'm not even going to ask. It's late, and I had to go find the two of you because _neither_ of you-" He sent you an irritated glare coupled with the red veins in his Persian blue eyes. You smiled awkwardly back at him with finger guns. "Checked in with Donnie."

"He never called." You remarked back, crossing your arms over your chest.

A new voice popped up. "If you would check your damn _phone_ for once-" The voice came from your back pocket as you pursed your lips, staring off into the distance.

".... What did I tell you about hacking my phones speaker?"

"You have no power here." Donnie mumbled as he went radio silent, though your phone began to do its vibration dance and blare Nickleback at its shrieking volume to try and get your attention. It was his worst song too.

"Let's just go. I'm tired as hell, and I need to get _her_ -" he motioned to his now sleeping girlfriend, nestled in a stray jacket with the outmost love, attention, and care being taken to make sure she was confortable. Even though she was absolutely drenched in water, and her entire body was shaking and pale from the cold. Leo didn't look much better either. It was as if they had taken a dip in the Hudson River.

Michelangelo and you silently nodded and grabbed one another's hand. It was the tone of voice that Leo held that made the both of you shut your traps and follow after the eldest brother as all of you made your way towards the nearest manhole. Mikey found it best to not ask about his pizza, and made a mental note to check on it tomorrow.

"Dude, you guys smell like fish." Mikey snorted, biting on his bottom lip as he winked at his semi horrified girlfriend.

Leonardo was silent for a moment before angling his head slightly to the side. "And you smell like a cat, Mikey."

A slight hysterical giggle erupted from your mouth.

"You too, Y/n."

You and Mikey shared a knowing glance coupled with a smile. Oh, if only he _knew_.

Leonardo's girlfriend sneezed loudly, as a flurry of cat fur that had stuck onto her wet skin seemed to burst from her mouth in a flurry. The sirens of the police seemed to wail ever closer, as a humanoid Baset watched from above, perched on the rooftop, chewing on a slice of pizza with a empty pizza box near her. She peered curiously at the phone in the shape of a turtle shell in her hand, as blood dripped from her snout to the street below.   
  
Everything was fine.


End file.
